


In the Palm of His Hand

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alpha Davos Seaworth, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Romance, King Stannis, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Stannis Baratheon, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Pregnant Stannis Baratheon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: For years, Stannis has hidden his nature until dire circumstances force him to reveal himself to Davos. Now, after their night together leaves him with child, he is forced to confront all that he had sought to bury, all while trying to maintain his grasp on his throne.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue is set pre-canon, but the bulk of the story is set post-ADWD (and all the rest of the chracters are from there).

Stannis sat on the hard wooden bench in Maester Cressen's solar waiting for the old man to return. He had been feeling terrible for some time now, his heart racing for no reason, his face flushed, his breaths coming tight. He'd had spells like this for the past several months, striking every few weeks. He had climbed the stairs to Maester Cressen's rooms reluctantly, Robert's jeers that he was probably dying ringing in his ears. He had never come across this as a manner of death in all the books he'd read, but now he worried from Maester Cressen's long absence from the room that he was about to return with news that Stannis would not live to see his fifteenth nameday. 

The door creaked open. 

Stannis jumped to his feet. "Am I dying?" The words left his mouth before he could contain them. Once they had, he felt foolish, but Maester Cressen's face softened.

"Dear boy, no. No." He hurried over to Stannis, setting his basket down on the workbench. "You are not dying, I am sure of that."

Stannis hated that Maester Cressen put his arm around him like he was a child, but not enough to pull away. "Then what's wrong with me?" 

"I want you to take this so I can be sure." 

Stannis watched as Maester Cressen returned to the workbench, busying himself with the plants he'd collected. He had always loved watching Maester Cressen work; despite his age, his fingers moved no less deftly as he chopped and mixed the ingredients. 

"What are you making?" Stannis didn't recognize some of the plants, and he'd watched Maeser Cressen make potions and poultices nearly every day of his life. 

"If it works, I will tell you," he said gravely, and Stannis realized it was better not to ask. "Don't tell your brother just yet." He handed Stannis a cup. 

"There's no danger of that." No matter what was wrong with him, he wasn't going to tell Robert about it unless forced to. He sniffed it skeptically before downing it. It didn't taste as bad as Maester Cressen's concoctions usually did, but that wasn't saying much. "Now what?" He felt no different. 

Maester Cressen smoothed Stannis' hair and he allowed this without protest. "Now we wait."

Stannis' symptoms vanished within three days. 

He considered this good news, but Maester Cressen looked sad. He bade him wait another two moons' turns, after which his symptoms returned. How had Maester Cressen known? Stannis took the potion once more, his symptoms vanished, and only then did Maester Cressen seem satisfied. 

And resigned. 

"Stannis," he said gently. They were sitting in Maester Cressen's solar, before the open window looking out over Shipbreaker Bay. "I will not mince words with you. I know we have assumed you to be a beta." 

"I _am_ a beta," Stannis said hotly. He was well past the age when one would know if they were an alpha or an omega. Robert had manifested as an alpha at thirteen; Stannis would be fifteen in a month. Like anyone else who hadn't showed signs of either, Stannis was a beta. 

"I know that's what it seemed, lad. But your symptoms—they seem very much like heats. And the potion I made for you is meant to stop them. There is no other condition I know of that comes every eight weeks and is stopped by redwort." 

"How can you be sure?" Stannis was aware of his own voice rising in panic. His uncle Lomas was the closest omega he knew; he remembered thinking at Lomas' wedding how little he would have liked for that to be his life. 

Maester Cressen sighed. "I am so sorry to be the bearer of this news, Stannis. I know how unwelcome it is." 

Resentment burned in Stannis' chest. Unwelcome was an understatement. "That's easy for you to say."

Maester Cressen closed his eyes. "Yes. As a beta, I can never know. But I can try to help. When your parents return…" He sighed. "We will talk to them and together, we will figure out what to do."

Stannis' vision swam. Everything he'd imagined his future life to be was falling apart, all in a moment. There would be no figuring out what to do. His father would betroth him to an alpha. Stannis had never been bold enough to think he might choose his own spouse, but now the field was narrowed severely. His husband or wife would be an alpha. Stannis would have no choice in the matter.

"Thank you, maester," he said, forcing himself not to give in to his distress. He would do his duty as required. Even if he did not like it.

A scant month later, Stannis saw the _Windproud_ dashed against the rocks, and with it, any hope of a palatable match, chosen with care by Father. 

Alone in his room, still that very same night, he pulled out a piece of blank parchment and drew on it a crude calendar. He would anticipate his heat so that… something… could be done about it. He knew not what, but that was not important right now. What was important was concealing it from Robert. He hid his calendar between two books, where Robert would never find it. 

As the days ticked away, his agitation rose. Was this how it would be for the rest of his life? _Except for when your alpha gets you with child_ , he reminded himself. This promise of eventual relief provided no comfort. _At least Mother and Father will never know_. This provided no comfort either. 

Soon enough, the day he had marked for his heat arrived. He still did not know what he was going to do about it, but he liked that he had made a calendar. To his surprise, Maester Cressen shook him awake before dawn. 

"Come," he said. "Dress. We are going out."

"Why?" Stannis fumbled for his clothes, ending up with his cloak fastened backwards. 

"You will see." He moved quickly for his age, making Stannis hurry blearily to catch up as they made their way down the stairs. "You will need to know this when I am gone. I believe you should be afforded a choice, so I am giving you the means, Stannis."

"The means to do what?"

Maester Cressen held up a hand to hush him as they passed the drowsy guard by the postern gate. Once they were through and walking the short distance to a grove of trees clinging to the cliff edge, the old man spoke again. "The redwort potion affords you a choice. If you take it every eight weeks, you will experience no heat. You may live as a beta."

Stannis took in a sharp breath. "But that would be—" 

"Dishonest? Perhaps. But was it not dishonest of the gods to send you this so late?"

"It was." Stannis wasn't sure if he believed in the gods, but he was sure he did know he didn't want anything to do with gods that would curse him with omegahood after he'd been sure he was a beta. He swallowed hard. He still barely believed it, though the regularity and intensity of the symptoms was real enough. He knew they would only intensify as time went on until he was experiencing true, fertile heats. _Those_ he would have much more trouble bearing through than he had his first one. 

Without another word, Maester Cressen stooped down and plucked one of the little red flowers that clung in bunches under the trees. "This is your first and most crucial ingredient. Look at them. You must always take a mature blossom, or the potion will not be effective. See how the edges become rounder? Those are what you want." 

All of Stannis' sleepiness seemed to vanish as he followed the maester along the cliffs above Shipbreaker Bay. He studied each ingredient and its location, so he would always know in what conditions he'd be likely to find what he needed. 

Eight weeks later, Maester Cressen let Stannis do all the gathering and did not even have to correct him once. 

Stannis fell into an almost comfortable routine for the next several years. Every eight weeks, he made his potion, with Maester Cressen's reassuring supervision, less because he needed it and more because he had always liked working beside his teacher. It calmed him in the face of the secret he was trying to conceal. It did not bear thinking about what would happen if anyone ever found out what he was doing.

The first disruption was the siege. 

He had prepared to undergo siege when Robert had ridden out to reclaim his bride, but no one could prepare for a siege lasting so long, and the redwort was not as effective dried. He still had symptoms, but thankfully not full heats. He was still confined to bed for at least one day each time, and he could only hope none of the men noticed the pattern. 

It was bearable. Just. 

Maester Cressen knew not to interrupt him (or to allow Renly to interrupt him) on such nights, so when his bedroom door opened, Stannis knew it was for good reason. 

"Stannis," Maester Cressen said quietly, "you should come." 

It had to be important. He dragged himself from his bed and breathed deep from the redwort sachet he had made from the dried, crushed petals. With the potion not at full effectiveness, every little bit helped. 

Now, revived, he followed Maester Cressen down to the cavern below the castle to see what it was he was to see. 

It was a man. A small man, seeming to swim in the threadbare cloak that swathed his thin shoulders. And an alpha.

Stannis did not know how he could be so sure, but despite the unassuming presence of the man, with his plain face framed by long, windblown hair, he was an alpha. 

Stannis felt nothing in the way of desire or lust, though he wasn't sure what those would look like. It was a mere fact, knowledge provided by his heat, a fact he filed along with the fact that the man was a smuggler and that he had come to relieve their starvation. _That_ was more important than his alphahood. 

And there was no way for Davos to know what _Stannis_ was. Whatever else happened to them, that was one thing he could be sure of.


	2. Chapter One

There was an omega in heat somewhere in the New Castle. Davos had no idea who it was—it could have been a soldier in their ranks, a servant, even a member of Lord Wyman's household. Davos had no desire to seek the omega out—he had _some_ power over his instincts, after all—but he could not deny his own nature, his alpha's sense which told him there was a potential mate nearby and urged him to seek them out. At this point, the knowledge was an inconvenience, something to be borne until the poor unfortunate had their heat sated or it passed with the agony Davos knew it would entail. 

He was not alone in this knowledge. The castle was crowded enough as Stannis' Northern army assembled for its march south, and Davos could feel a cloud of agitation engulfing all the alphas. Lord Wyman was one, and Davos could sense the older man's discomfort, the same as he could with Whoresbane Umber, whom Davos found even more unpleasant than usual.

Davos had met him on the stairs before supper and they had faced one another, glowering, both refusing to move. It mattered not that there was no mate for them to fight over, or that the idea of a physical fight between them was absurd. Davos had never in his life fought another alpha, though he had seen fights break out aboard ship, close quarters breeding already festering agitation. 

"Out of the way, smuggler," Umber growled. Davos remained rooted to the spot. As a an alpha short and slight of stature, he had learned to stand his ground, though he often regretted his behavior in more sober moments.

They shoved past each other like foolish children. By the time he reached the head of the stairs, Davos felt ashamed of himself and was glad his king had not been there to see him. How fitting that Stannis should be a beta, above the crude urges of alphas and omegas. _He would abhor it_ , Davos thought, vowing not to let his urges overpower his sense. 

Besides, he had more important things to worry about. He feared his king was ill. Stannis had been pale and eaten little all week; he had come to the meetings of his war council, but Davos had done most of the talking. He did not take the lead in discussions of battle strategy eagerly, but one look at his king had made him rise to his feet and begin the meeting as though Stannis were not even there. 

Stannis had vanished shortly after and Davos had not seen him, even at supper. He retired reluctantly, with instructions to Devan to awaken him if Stannis needed him at any time of night.

Despite this, he was actually surprised when his son shook him out of a sound sleep. 

"Father, the king wants to see you." Devan's face betrayed that he had not slept, that he'd sat up waiting for the king to need him. 

"Thank you, Devan," he said, pushing the bedclothes aside. 

"He wants to see you alone," Devan added, fidgeting awkwardly. "He just called to me from the other room to get you. He wouldn't even let me come in. 

_He is sick_ , Davos decided as he dressed, _and embarrassed by it._ Davos remembered urging Stannis to go to bed some years earlier, when a summer fever had ripped through King's Landing and he'd found his liege lord shivering at his desk. Stannis did not take kindly to betrayal, least not that of his own body. 

"Stay here," Davos told his son. "Sleep." 

Devan pulled off his boots and crawled gratefully into Davos' bed. 

_I must make more time for him_ , Davos reminded himself as he let himself out. Between war and uncertainty at home, the lad had had much upheaval over the past few months, though he had borne it better than many grown men twice his age. He'd matured much during Davos' long absence on Skagos, and he had to remind himself he would soon be a man grown. 

_We must get him home_ , Davos thought. _His mother and brothers will hardly recognize him._

Thoughts of home had become bittersweet ones for Davos. He had long been unable to be the husband and father he ought to have been, and he did not regret the decision to release one another from marital obligations that he and Marya had reached well before he went north. She was to wed again, a letter waiting for him upon his return to White Harbor had informed him, dictated to their son Stanny. Davos was happy for her and held her betrothed in high esteem, though he knew not what Devan and his brothers thought of their new stepfather. 

He dismissed these thoughts abruptly upon reaching the king's bedchamber. Now was the time for him to see to his king. He knocked firmly and opened the door. "You had need of me, sire?"

Even before stepping fully inside, Davos was struck by the oddness of the scene. The room was dark, lit by only a single candle on the nightstand, and an unfamiliar scent filled Davos' nostrils, that of sweat and something he could not quite identify. 

"Close the door," croaked the voice from the bed. Davos obeyed, plunging them into further darkness as they lost the torchlight from the corridor behind him. 

"Your Grace?" Davos took a tentative step forward. "Do you need the maester?"

"No," Stannis spat. "That is the last thing I need."

"Then tell me what is the matter, sire." Davos strode forward and dropped to one knee next to Stannis' bed. The king's skin shone with sweat in the flickering light; his hair was plastered to his head. 

"I need you. Only you. It must be you." 

Davos started. "Me? Sire, if you are ill, it's a maester you need, not me…"

"Don't tell me you don't know by now. Don't tell me you can't smell it. You are an alpha."

Davos again allowed himself to consider the scent. His stomach dropped as realization set in. 

His mouth opened in surprise. "But, sire—"

"I know." Every breath seemed to be an agonized effort, but Stannis' eyes were fixed intensely on him. He dared not look away. "You have always taken me for a beta. That was the intention."

Davos still could not get past his confusion. But Stannis _was_ a beta, as Selyse was. That was why they had been matched to each other, though the union had produced only one child. But that had not been because they were incompatible, had it? 

Besides, in all the years he had known Stannis, he had never known him to go into heat. Surely he would have noticed, with as much time as they spent together. 

Perhaps he simply did not want to believe it. In truth, he had longed for Stannis for years, though he knew he had no chance of having him. He hadn't cared that he was a beta; Davos' own wife was a beta. What his partner's nature was had never mattered to him, no more than their sex. Now he did not know what to do with the information that Stannis was an omega, his natural other half. 

But Stannis—no, he could not picture it of Stannis. 

"I take a potion," Stannis continued. "Maester Cressen made it for me from my first heat." There was a wistfulness to his voice, and Davos thought about how he, too, missed the old man. "After his death, I made it myself—he made sure I knew how from an early age." He took a gasping breath; clearly, this much speech was an effort. "But the herbs I require do not all grow in the North. I could not find them, and my supply of dried redwort is long gone." 

"But you have spent months in the North, sire."

"Aye, we were near starving against the Northern winter, and I did not fall into heat. Now I am better-fed and in good health while we wait to march south… the heat is returned, but I cannot stop it." 

Davos frowned. "I never knew."

"No one knew. Not even my parents, for they were away in Essos when I began my first heat." 

What Stannis wished for him to do was beginning to dawn on him, but he wasn't going to assume anything when it came to Stannis. 

"What can I do, Your Grace?"

"You can rid me of this. We both know you can, and how you may go about it."

Davos' stomach was in knots as he got to his feet. "I couldn't, sire, I—" 

"Then who shall I ask? Lord Wyman? He is an alpha. Dinner beside him was an agony. Or Whoresbane Umber? Would you have him take me? There is also Justin Massey—would he do his duty for his king?"

Davos started forward. "If you think I could ever let the likes of Justin Massey touch you—" He stopped and swallowed hard. He was embarrassed by the rush of fierce possessiveness that had caused him to speak out of turn, but that was apparently what Stannis had meant to elicit by the mention of other alphas. "You are the king," he added more soberly. 

"Aye, and you must do your duty." Stannis paused. "Forgive me, Davos. I would never force you. I confess the heat has addled my brain. I only ask for your help, if you are willing to give it." 

"I can see how painful this is for you, sire. I…" He closed his eyes. _Best to see this logically or I will not see it through_. "I have helped omegas before, in my smuggling days. It was not uncommon when at sea for a shipmate to need that sort of help."

He could see Stannis' body relax beneath the covers, betraying how tensely he'd been holding himself. He was trying not to show his agony in front of Davos, but it was clear in the rise and fall of his chest, or the way his hips ground imperceptibly against the mattress, seeking relief.

"I will help you, sire. I do not want to make presumptions, but, I—" 

"It is not necessary, Davos. We both know what is required of you and why. Let us not mistake the situation."

Davos' stomach twisted again. _Aye, let us mistake nothing._ He had never dared breathe a word of his feelings for Stannis, and gods willing, they would stay hidden. They had no more place here than they did anywhere else. This was a favor, just like at sea, and there would be no consequences, just like at sea, for Stannis could surely obtain the herbs for _that_ if he needed them. If he had been stopping his heats for all these years, Davos supposed it possible that he had rendered himself barren. 

"Sire, I need just a moment." His palms were sweaty, and despite the heady nearness of an omega in heat, he was unsure of his ability to accomplish the task. His cock seemed resolutely uncooperative. 

"Davos." Stannis' voice was surprisingly gentle. He sat up, letting the covers fall away. The damp linen of his shirt clung to every plane of his body. At last, Davos' cock twitched at this tantalizing herald of what lay beneath. "What can I do to make you more comfortable?"

"No, what can _I_ do?" Davos could feel himself acclimating to the situation in all its absurdity; he could serve his king in all things. "Sire, it is _you_ I do not wish to discomfort. Considering what I must do to you."

"What I must compel you to do to me." Stannis was almost smiling despite his condition, though he was breathing hard. "This is a pointless argument, Davos. We had best get on with it." He pushed the covers aside and pulled off his shirt. 

Davos allowed his gaze to sweep over the broad chest. At least now he could give in to his baser desires, give himself over to instinct. Even when he had thought him a beta, Davos had had a deep appreciation for Stannis' body. He had never been vain, but he had always devoted time in the training yard, which had made Davos a devoted observer of Stannis' shoulders, not to mention his thighs and arse. For all the objections of his rational mind that saw Stannis as his king, there was a part of him that hungered only for omega.

He began unlacing his tunic as Stannis watched, with what Davos allowed himself to fancy was a hungry gaze. Knowing he was under observation, Davos tried to be alluring as he worked to remove the rest of his clothes, though his own body was simply skinny and beginning to show his age, with nothing of Stannis' sinewy strength. He unlaced his breeches and Stannis looked away, to Davos' relief because he was not close to fully hard yet. 

_This is Stannis_ , he thought as he kicked his breeches away. _You have always wanted him. Now you have him._  
  
He climbed awkwardly onto the bed and Stannis spread his legs. He was rock-hard and Davos tried not to look too long at his cock. He could see how he'd managed to conceal his nature before his wife. Davos tore his gaze away. 

His heart was pounding. While he had had numerous lovers, male and female, omega and otherwise, he found he knew not how to proceed with Stannis. 

"Would you like to kiss me, Davos?" Stannis asked hesitantly. He looked as though he was afraid of being refused. 

"Yes," Davos said firmly, hoping the intimacy would make it easier, artificial though the intimacy may have been. "Nothing would please me more, Your Grace."

Stannis was the one who reached for him, taking Davos' left hand and brushing his thumb over the tips of the shortened fingers. "I have always asked too much of you." He brought Davos' fingers to his lips. 

"Never, sire." With that, Davos closed the distance between them and caught Stannis' mouth in a fierce kiss, into which he tried to pour every scrap of appreciation and devotion he had ever felt over the years, everything he could not say aloud. _You made me. I love you._

He doubted, by his reaction, that Stannis had ever been kissed like that. His king made a noise of deep longing in his throat and slid his hands into Davos' hair. Davos' senses were afire with one thought only—to make the omega his. 

The blood was rushing straight to his cock, and he tried to go slowly as he kissed his way down Stannis' neck, all his earlier apprehension gone. He had long suspected Stannis' only partner had been his wife, and he'd known he only slept with her from obligation. The last thing Davos wanted to do was hurt him. 

Stannis arched into every touch, seeming to be rendered speechless. 

"Are you all right, sire?" he asked, raking his fingers through the hair on Stannis' chest. His tongue flicked over a nipple, which brought Stannis' hips off the bed. 

Stannis groaned. "Oh, Davos." He took several gasping breaths. "I am fine." He skimmed his hand over Davos' back, moving tentatively lower, but seeming to shy away from touching him further down, reaching only the top of his arse.

"It's all right," Davos murmured in his ear. "Sire, it's only me. Do you trust me?"

"In everything, Davos." Stannis pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "If I had my choices of anyone in the all the world for this, I would only choose you."

Davos' heart raced at this revelation. Surely Stannis had not meant it the way he seemed to have meant it, but that did not matter tonight. 

He brushed his shortened fingers gently over Stannis' cheek, unable to say anything further. 

"Will you—" Stannis paused for a breath. "The knot, Davos." It sounded almost as though he were giving an order aboard ship. 

"Of course, sire." Davos could not help but respond as though that was what it was and nothing more.

"How should I lie for it?" 

Davos mentally ran through the various options. He did not want to fuck his king from behind. It seemed a liberty too far, as much as he'd have liked not to have to look at him.

"Stay on your back," he told him. "But lift up your legs—yes." He worked to position him, conscious of his impending knot. The last thing he wished to do was slam gracelessly into Stannis like the worst sort of alpha, but he did not want to knot too early, before he was even inside him.

He slipped a finger inside Stannis, keeping eye contact with him. Stannis looked back at him with utter trust, and though he certainly looked different from usual with his face flushed and his hair mussed, he was still the same man Davos had always known. __  
  
"Your Grace, you are absolutely sure you want me to do this?"

Stannis lifted himself up on his elbows. "You must, Davos. We have come this far. To stop now would be pointless."

"Aye." Davos could see the desperation in his eyes and he kissed him again. Too many kisses, perhaps, but he would take them while he had the excuse.

He would get this over with. Stannis needed his heat sated and that ought to be Davos' sole priority. Slowly, he eased himself inside. Stannis let out a low hiss. 

Davos stopped. "Too much, sire?" 

Stannis let out a breath. "No. Go on." 

Davos did as his king bid and pushed forward until, with one more shuddering breath, he felt the knot form. He shut his eyes from relief. 

Beneath him, Stannis writhed, clearly trying to stop himself from crying out. He bent his head again and kissed Stannis' lips, his neck, his collarbone. They were bound now, he and his king, for as long as the knot linked them.

 _Look on this and commit it to memory_ , he told himself. _You shan't see it again._

"Davos." Stannis' hands came up to caress his cheek, his thumb brushing over Davis' beard before reaching up to tenderly tuck his hair behind his ear. "Thank you. I can't tell you what this means to me. The heat is an agony and a distraction I did not need."

"It is my pleasure, sire." Davos took Stannis' hand and kissed it. None of what they were saying to each other was terribly romantic, but that was fitting for what this was.

However much he had tried to hold it off, the knot was nearly spent. Belatedly, he worked a hand between them, pumping Stannis' own cock in time with his movements. He was close to his climax, something he both welcomed and dreaded. He wanted to be through with this awkwardness, but he wanted to be inside his king forever.

"Stannis." His king's name came in a whisper. Surely Stannis could forgive him one more indelicacy in the moment.

Stannis seemed not to have noticed. His eyes were closed and Davos would have taken it for pain were he not shuddering with his own climax. 

"Sire, I—" Davos swallowed the rest, pressing one last kiss to Stannis' brow as his came to his end at last. 

He knew it would be best for him to go, to return to his own quarters after this indelicacy. It would make it easier for them to never speak of it again. 

But he didn't. His energy seemed to have been spent with his seed and so, it seemed, had Stannis'. His king lay motionless, eyes closed, his breathing beginning to slow. Davos let his rubbery limbs collapse onto the bed beside him. 

He would be there in the morning, he decided, should Stannis need his help. That was as good a reason to stay as any.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Estermont family tree is confused between various of the books, as detailed [here](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/House_Estermont/Family_Trees). I use Option 2, because it makes things simpler/closer.

Stannis woke to the dawn light filtering through the heavy drapes. He remembered drawing them the night before when he'd locked himself in his bedchamber to finish his heat. Now he felt completely refreshed, buried as he was in a pile of furs, snug and warm next to something solid. What, precisely, was the cause of this feeling? 

Then, he pushed the furs back and came face to face with Davos, still sleeping soundly. 

What had happened the night before came back in a rush of shame, chasing the hazy last vestiges of sleep from his mind. 

_Would that I had not been born what I was. It is one thing to do it out of need, quite another to… enjoy it_. Last night, it had seemed rational to ask his Hand to assist in this matter, but now that he felt Davos' dry seed between his legs, he felt a selfish fool for having relished his kisses, for having begged for Davos' cock. 

"Your Grace?"

A chill of dread settled in Stannis' stomach. He was not yet ready to face him. "Yes, Davos?"

Davos pushed himself up, forcing Stannis to look at him. He showed no signs of shame, not even pulling the bedclothes up to cover his nakedness as Stannis was. Stannis dismissed the thought that he liked how he looked with his hair falling in disarray over his bare shoulders. 

Stannis averted his eyes. "I wish to apologize for my behavior last night. I went further than I ought to have and—"

"You need not apologize." Davos pushed his hair back from his face. "We both did only what was necessary to relieve your problem. Do you feel any ill effects, sire?"

"No." Stannis' eyes flicked back to Davos. 

"Good." Davos smiled. "Then it was all for the best, wasn't it? I am happy to have been of service and would gladly do it again if you needed me." He paused, and for a moment, Stannis thought he might do something like offer his services _between_ heats. Or kiss him. 

But, of course, he didn't. 

Stannis sighed. "As always, you have the right of it, Davos. And if I ever do have need of you again…" He cleared his throat. "I will inform you."

Davos nodded, with the same expression as if he'd been asked to do anything. Except for the fact he was naked. "Of course, Your Grace." He slipped from the bed and began to gather his clothes.

Stannis pulled the furs more securely up around himself and fixed his gaze at the bedpost, which was carved in the shape of a mermaid. Ordinarily, he would not have looked at the figure, considering she was topless, but it was much less awkward than watching Davos. It was bad enough that he could hear the rustling of his clothes and his mind was trying to picture him getting back into them. He would let his Hand preserve _some_ dignity. 

"Do you feel well enough to leave tomorrow, sire? If not I can inform—" 

"Absolutely not." Stannis turned, coming face to face with Davos pulling his tunic down over his head. At least he was nearly all covered, though the strip of belly he'd glimpsed was now seared into his brain, along with tantalizing thoughts of touching it or kissing it. "We will keep to our plans. We must strike while the Lannisters are weakened from fighting Jon Connington's pretender boy. We have the North, we have the sellswords." He pushed himself up, forgetting he was still wearing nothing. 

Davos did not even pause in putting his boots on. "I will speak with Ser Wylis, then. I trust more sellsails will still join us and we can allow such time for them to do so. When you reach the Trident, you must send a raven and we will depart. Salladhor Saan—" He tucked his hair behind his ear, and Stannis' heart ached for one of those habits of Davos' he'd missed most during their separation. "I believe he will join you now that you have more support. And—" 

"The funds from the Iron Bank." Stannis pressed his lips together. He twitched the bedclothes up further, trying to appear casual as he lay back to await Davos' departure so he could wash and dress. "Yes, I will pay him. In advance." He ground his teeth. _At least this is the last time I must rely on pirates, sellswords, sellsails. After this, I will have my throne, or I will be dead._

Davos smiled. "He'll be glad when I tell him. I fear the last time we met, he was not well pleased with me." 

Stannis frowned. "What do you mean?"

Davos flushed. "When he was to bring me to White Harbor—" 

"No. About you telling him." 

Davos' eyebrows raised. "Your Grace, I expected I would go with the fleet, such that it is. I have no ship of mine own to command, but Ser Wylis has told me I am welcome aboard the _Lady Catelyn_. I don't think he—"

"No, Davos. I want you with me." Davos' eyes went wide, and Stannis instantly regretted his exact choice of words. "You are the Hand of the King," he blundered on. "A sailor, yes, and still my best, but I will make do with Salladhor Saan and Wylis Manderley if I must." He could not spare his uncle Lomas either, but he didn't mention that to Davos. "You will be with me when we take the city." 

He had always envisioned Davos by his side while doing it, and he could not resist giving in to that impulse. Davos had served him ably over the years, had been his most faithful vassal in his quest for his throne. Davos deserved to be present for his moment of ultimate triumph. 

Stannis rejected the notion that his desire to have Davos near could have any other meaning. They must make it through the Neck before his next heat. He would be able to find the redwort flowers there. Then he would have no need of Davos' services, so he knew he wasn't bringing him for that.

Davos looked as though he might have said something but thought better of it. "I am no soldier, sire, but I will do my best to help you in whatever way I can." 

"I will not put you in danger, Davos. I know you are no warrior. And you will be near Devan. The boy must have his father around; he is getting to the age when… when a boy needs his father."

Davos, who knew how old Stannis had been when Lord Steffon had been lost aboard the _Windproud_ , nodded. "Thank you, sire." The gratitude in his eyes made Stannis' chest ache.

 _The lingering heat_ , he decided. _His seed is still working._ He cleared his throat. "No, I must thank you, Davos, for being with me all this time. After this, you will finally be able to go home." 

"Yes, Your Grace." Davos bowed. "I—I'll make arrangements." He turned to go. 

"Davos," Stannis said suddenly. Davos turned back. "Thank you. I cannot say that enough." 

Davos inclined his head again. "Of course, sire."

Stannis lay in bed for quite a while after Davos had gone. It was for the best that they had done this; the heat was stopped and the was all that mattered. Now he could go one with his plans. 

He rose and pulled on his nightshift and robe before he called for a bath. A bath would make him feel more like himself. Then he would be able to leave the whole sorry situation behind him. 

** 

Devan had risen early and didn't ask Davos why he'd spent the night with the king, for which he was grateful. He didn't want to have to explain to his son where he'd been. Not that he supposed Devan would want to know that his father had fucked the king. _Though he is an alpha_ , Davos reminded himself. _He will have to find out about such things sooner or later._

He had little contact with Stannis the rest of the day, which he didn't mind. They were both busy and it was for the good of all that he didn't waste time following Stannis as he reviewed the troops. The naval preparations had to be seen to, and as much as a part of him liked the idea of not having to see Stannis for several months if he remained with the ships, he was glad he would have the time with Devan as they marched south. Stannis had been right about a boy needing his father.

Ser Wylis welcomed Davos' instructions and was eager to play a role in serving Stannis, as were many of the northmen who hailed the restoration of Rickon Stark to Winterfell and the ouster of the Boltons. Davos was glad not to have been present for the battle; he had been spared the worry of witnessing Stannis' long march to Winterfell and his slaying Ramsay Snow in single combat. Davos had returned to White Harbor with Rickon Stark to find his king already hailed a liberator. 

_Exactly as he deserves_ , Davos thought with fondness, looking up to the walls of the Wolf's Den looming above the harbor. Davos shaded his eyes. He could see a party of men up there, presumably containing the king, but he could not distinguish Stannis among them. 

"I see why you've always been his man, Onion Lord," Ser Wylis said. 

Davos could not keep the smile from his face. It is good to know others see his worth.

These (purely platonic) feelings of pride kept Davos from thinking about what they’d done. By evening, he had become comfortable with the decision that it was exactly like what he’d done for all those omegas he’d known at sea and meant nothing more.

And if Stannis were left with an unwanted reminder of their time together, Davos supposed the king could do whatever was necessary. As far as Davos was aware, that was what everyone at sea had always done, though he’d always had his suspicions about one of Salladhor Saan’s daughters. (Davos knew better than to ask outright; Salla’s many children were his pride and joy and not a one knew their sire). Davos' role in the matter was over. They could march south with clear conscious. 

**

They left the next day before dawn. Stannis had slept little the night before, but was not tired as he rode from the city. His heat had truly vanished. 

He was looking forward to the monotony of the road to allow himself to be alone with his thoughts. Davos was riding by his son, and Stannis had never been the sort to surround himself with courtiers at all times like Robert had been. 

"Well, lad, you did it." 

Stannis looked up. Uncle Lomas had brought his horse up alongside him. His omega uncle was one companion he hadn't considered, but not an unwelcome one. 

"Yes," Stannis said, allowing himself to be satisfied. The army was moving in an orderly fashion, though the road ahead of him was long, and he had learned to take nothing for granted. "They bowed to me, even if it was for the Starks."

"Revenge is a powerful motivator. You know that, I should say." 

"Yes." Stannis paused, wondering if this thought was worth sharing. "And it was all from my own power, not from the red woman." 

Lomas laughed. "Aye, and what of her?"

"She is with Selyse." Stannis hadn't thought of Melisandre since leaving her at the wall. _If I am capable of doing this all on my own, I will not need her to win the capital. Naturally, I will reward her as is her due, but I need her not. And perhaps the south will like me better without her._ What faith he followed mattered not to Stannis. 

Lomas said nothing to that. Stannis was now forcibly reminded of their shared omegahood. He had never confided in his uncle, but now he wondered how Lomas had managed all these years. _He must have the potion_ , Stannis decided. _There were no more babes after Andrew._

They rode in silence, Stannis forcing his mind from that topic. 

"Uncle?" he began. 

Lomas lifted his head. 

"When I take my throne, I intend to reward all those who remained loyal to me. Grandfather and Uncle Aemon turned their cloaks and knelt to Joffrey, so I should like to give you Greenstone and all its incomes." 

If his uncle was surprised, he showed it little, though there was a straightening of his shoulders that Stannis fancied meant he was pleased. "That's a long way off, Stannis." 

"But it ought to be yours. And even if…" He paused. "Even if there are some who say you should not have it, I will support you." 

Lomas raised an eyebrow. "I don't need the defense of my beta nephew."

"That is not what I meant." Stannis looked away as he felt his face grow hot. There was no way he could confide in Lomas now and reveal what he was.

Lomas laughed. "No matter. I will take what you have to give me—if it ever becomes yours to give."

Stannis didn't respond; he knew this was all he would get from his uncle. "It will be," he said, for lack of something else to say.

"It just might," Lomas allowed. "Last I heard it was in the hands of Golden Company; if those Stormbreakers the Massey boy found can take it back and your throne, I will gladly accept what's left of it."

Stannis allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He and his uncle were much alike in truth, their shared nature aside, and he ought not to have expected effusive praise. This was as strong an approval as Uncle Lomas ever gave, and he'd certainly never heard him say as much to either of his brothers. 

"We won't get past the Twins without opposition," Lomas went on.

"I know." It was days away, but Stannis had the location of the twin castles burned into his brain, as well as how long it might take to reach the stretch of the Kingsroad that was nearest the Frey lands. "We will meet them, and we will best them." 

There had been Freys among the dead and hostages taken at Winterfell; if anything, he had that in his favor. 

"Perhaps he will declare for you." Lomas smirked. "He does turn his cloak easily."

Stannis scowled. "I have no time for turncloaks."

"Of course, of course, but if he surrenders and bends his knee…"

"Then I will accept that." Stannis tightened his grip on the reins. "And I will not turn my back to him."

**

Davos wasn't a born rider and three days on the road was wearying him. He didn't see much of Stannis, but this was by design. There was nothing to consult with him about, and he did not want to make things awkward for Stannis. 

Stannis was much in consultation with various members of his war council and often rode beside them. His uncle was a frequent companion, as was Whoresbane Umber, whom Davos still harbored a distaste for he was trying to force himself past. 

The long march did give him the opportunity to talk to Devan, which he relished. 

He let his son talk, wanting to know what was on his mind. Davos well remembered how this age was, having lived through it four times before—there was a fine line to walk between feeling as though he'd imparted some wisdom into his son, a taste of the true connection he might one day have with Devan man-to-man, and getting a huffing eyeroll in response to whatever he said. 

But Devan was an alpha, and recent events in Davos' life had reminded him that certain things needed saying. 

Larence Snow, a squire in their host, was an omega, and Davos had noticed he and Devan had taken a shine to one another. Davos knew it was all in innocence; he'd seen the shy looks the two lads threw each other. 

But Davos also knew in the coming years the shy looks would become more, and there were things Devan needed to know.

He waited until they were relatively alone, riding alongside the baggage train. Davos had raised enough sons to know not to embarrass Devan in front of the men and knights he looked up to. 

"Devan." 

"Yes, Father?"

Davos was suddenly at a loss for words. Dale had been an alpha, but had never had this trouble, if trouble it was. He'd married an omega girl, from a fishing village on Cape Wrath. Stannis has offered to make matches for Davos' sons, but Dale hasn't wanted that, had wanted what Davos and Marya had.

 _Would that he could have_ , he thought sadly.

"Father?" Devan looked concerned.

"I'm sorry, Devan. Lost in an old man's thoughts."

"You aren't that old, Father."

Davos had to laugh at that. "Thank you. I was only thinking of your brothers and how pleased they'd be with the man you're becoming."

Devan's gaze was cast down. "I miss them."

"Aye. So do I."

There was a pregnant pause before Devan spoke again. "I'd like to be like that for Stanny and Steff. Like Dale and Allard and Matthos and Maric were to me. I'm not sure Stanny and Steff will remember them much."

Davos found himself blinking back tears. "That would make me proud to see."

Devan looked pleased at this, and Davos decided now might be a time to bring up the matter he wished to discuss.

"Devan, there is something I wish to talk with you about. You are getting older and your nature has become apparent."

"Yes," Devan said warily and Davos recognized the tone from his older sons. He supposed he had once taken a similar tone when Roro Uhoris had sat Davos down and explained to him his alpha's duties. The awkwardness of that had been lessened by Roro's not being Davos' father and he tried to channel the spirit of his late captain and mentor.

"There is a responsibility to being an alpha, Devan. It isn't just about siring children--beta and omega men can do that."

"It's about heats, isn't it?"

"Yes." Davos was not going to pause until he'd seen this through. "There may come a time when an omega of your acquaintance needs your help. It is not uncommon for an alpha to help an omega in heat with no further expectations."

"Have you done that, Father?"

The question was all in innocence, but Davos shifted in the saddle, uncomfortably reminded of what he'd done just a few days before. "Yes," he said. "I did so often at sea." 

Devan nodded, seeming to turn this over in his mind. "I have another question, Father." He glanced around them; they were riding beside a supply wagon and he appeared to deem now the appropriate time to ask an embarrassing question. "It's about knots."

Davos winced, but he would forge on. Roro had answered every last question Davos had had, and he'd been brimming with them. "You can ask me any question you like."

"Does it hurt? The omega, I mean?" Devan was looking down as if his mount's mane greatly interested him. "Does it hurt them when you knot them?" 

"No." Davos relaxed, remembering his own youthful anxiety on the topic, which he had leaned forward and whispered in Roro's ear. "I mean, if you do cause someone pain, you ought not to continue—it should not hurt." 

Devan nodded. 

"Do you have any other questions?" 

Devan shook his head. Davos supposed this was enough information for one day. "Thank you, Father." 

"You're welcome, son. You can come to me if you have more." 

Devan nodded, not quite rolling his eyes, and Davos decided to count this as a victory. 

**

As the march lengthened, Stannis found he had all but forgotten about his night with Davos. He didn't linger long on the crinkles that appeared at the corners of his eyes when he smiled or the way he brushed his hair back from his face. He most certainly didn't remember how it had felt to be kissed by Davos, to have him inside him. 

They would soon be far enough south that he could make his potion. 

_And then I will never have to worry about this again._

What he did have to worry about were the Freys. 

As they drew nearer the Twins, Stannis' scouts informed him that a sizable force was waiting for them on the Kingsroad. 

"We will meet them," he informed his war council when they were a day's ride away. "At the very least, it will send a message that I do not mean to be intimidated." 

There was certainly no love for the Freys among the Northmen in his host. Stannis anticipated that he would sleep little the night before the battle, and he could sense the restlessness of the men throughout the camp. Long days on the road had wearied him and he found himself easily fatigued, his belly cramping. 

The winter night was cold, but Stannis wrapped himself in his cloak and stepped out to seek fresh air. He did not take a guard. He little liked the idea of having a follower wherever he went, though he supposed he would need a Kingsguard once he was installed in the capital. He liked his privacy, especially when it came time to deal with his heats, though he was still weeks from his next one. 

He had gone just a few paces out of the circle of light from the tent when he ran into someone. He was briefly conscious of a warm body smaller than himself before he identified the obstacle from the small noise of surprise it made.

"Davos, I didn't see you." He reached out to steady his shoulder.

"My apologies, Your Grace. I came to bid Devan good night." Davos' smile was wry in the dim light. "He is excited. He was disappointed to miss the battle at Winterfell."

"And he will see little of the battle tomorrow. He will remain with me and I will remain at the rear as is my custom." Davos relaxed at this and Stannis went on. "You will lose no more sons in this war, nor will you lose your king. I will certainly not allow myself to be struck down by the Late Lord Frey."

"I never thought you would." Davos stepped back, reminding Stannis that he was still touching him. "This is not something I can serve you in, sire, so I had not interfered."

"I always value your council." Stannis fell into step alongside Davos as they walked further from the tent. "You can tell me anything." 

"Aye, I know, and I do." He couldn't see Davos' smile, but he knew it was there; relief broke within him that no awkwardness lingered from their night together. "But I fear battle strategy is beyond me if no ships are involved. I can only remain out of the way and hope for your and Devan's safety."

Stannis' face went red at being named equal to Davos' son in his worries. He was glad it was dark. _The man has fucked me and yet I blush like an innocent._

"You will fear for nothing," he said, to cover his awkwardness, "for I will certainly not let anything happen to you or your son. I may not be the sort of man who goes charging into battle, but I will be armed and do what is necessary if I must." 

Davos touched his arm. "And Devan and I will be very glad for that." 

Stannis felt the heat rush back into his face. "It would be only my duty, for you have little way of defending yourself. Besides, it will not be just me. They have insisted on putting a guard on me." 

"As you deserve." 

Stannis stepped away, wanting to be deeper in darkness. "I will grant you that it is my right." 

They stood in quiet for a moment before Davos said, "I don't want to keep you from your rest. Good night, sire."

Stannis knew he was right, but he found he wanted to stay here in the cold, dark night and talk to Davos, or even just stand beside him. Instead, he said, "Aye, neither of us should be out here in this cold. Good night, Davos." 

He went to his bed feeling warm and content. 

**

Stannis slept better than he'd anticipated, though his guts were roiling with nausea when he woke. 

_Nerves_ , he thought. _I grew soft sitting in White Harbor all that time._  
  
He commanded from the rear, exactly as he'd told Davos he would, and he had Ser Richard Horpe and a small amount of men-at-arms with them. He would bow to Davos' urging, but he would not waste men on his own protection. 

He'd given his uncle the van, though some scoffed to see an omega in command. This, perhaps, was why he was even more pleased to do it, though his uncle could not know the true reason. He'd given important positions to Robett Glover and the Umbers, which had appeased some of the complaining. 

Ultimately, the Northerners were simply happy to kill Freys. Stannis knew a sizable portion of Lord Walder's men had gone north, and they must have known they stood no chance of stopping his forces. It did not take long for Stannis' men to cut through their lines. He knew enough not to take the ease with which this one battle had been won for granted, though.

"We must not stop," he told Lomas after Stannis had ridden down to meet with his commanders. Those who had not fled had surrendered, and Stannis was being led to his new prisoners. "We will have to press right on and take the Twins." 

"Aye." 

Stannis knew neither of them relished the distraction of a siege, especially one that was at least a day's march out of their way, but Stannis knew he would have to establish a hold on the Riverlands before he could even dream of taking the capital. 

_And the Riverlords will rally to me as the Northmen did if I rid them of the Freys._

His men were already engaged in burying the dead. He noticed Davos leading Devan off to help. He pulled his attention back to his uncle. 

And was promptly sick on the patch of ground between them. 

Lomas raised his eyebrows. 

"It's nothing," Stannis said, wiping his mouth. The nausea of the morning had not left him, even after the assurance of victory had replaced nerves with relief. 

Lomas continued to stare at him as though he were a green boy seeing the carnage of battle for the first time. Stannis took a swig of water from his canteen. He pressed onward, putting it behind him. _I will not be felled by a bad belly. Not now._

"Well," Lomas went on, "we have his heir." 

"Whose?" Stannis took another swig of water. 

"Walder Frey's." 

"Ah." He closed his eyes, willing the sudden sickness to pass. "Then we will have something to treat with." 

He stalked over to where the prisoners were being held, as much as his stomach protested. This was the last thing he would let stop him. 

It would pass. These sorts of things always did.


	4. Chapter Three

It was still winter in the south, undoubtedly, but it was far less cold, and Davos was able to shed some of his furs. It hadn't snowed since they'd passed the Neck, though there was frost on the grass and patchy ice on the Green Fork as Davos stood before the Twins, next to his king. 

He didn't say it aloud, but they _were_ impressive, the two great castles rising on opposite sides of the bank. 

Beside him, Stannis stood with his arms crossed over his chest. "Ser Godry is taking too long." 

Davos turned to look at him. Stannis had worried him during their forced march to the Twins following their victory on the Kingsroad. He was pale, and, though he tried to conceal it, Davos knew he had been ill frequently, and he hadn't seen him eat much. A gust of wind blew in off the Green Fork and Stannis pulled his cloak more tightly around himself. 

_He would not want me to fret over him_ , Davos reminded himself and turned his attention back to Ser Godry and his men who were making their way back from their parley at the castle gates. 

The men knelt before Stannis. "He will talk, sire," Ser Godry said, "but he requests it be with you personally and that you go unarmed."

Beside him, Davos sensed Stannis tense.

"Lord Walder has agreed to come himself if you will go, Your Grace," Ser Godry added. 

Stannis exhaled heavily and nodded. "Very well. Lord Davos may come with me. I trust Lord Walder will not be alone, so I, too, will bring a witness."

"Is it safe, Father?" Devan asked. 

"We are taking a chance, perhaps," he said, conscious of Stannis and Ser Godry listening, and the wide eyes of Devan and his friend Larence Snow.

"If anything happens to us, they will all die," Stannis said as he handed Devan his sword belt. Davos supposed this was meant to be comforting in his own way. He surrendered his own dagger to Larence, who now served as Davos' squire, and followed Stannis down the hill to the lowered drawbridge. He allowed himself one glance behind them; Ser Godry watched in disapproval and both squires' eyes were wide as saucers.

Davos realized that this was the first he'd been truly alone with Stannis in some time. He could not ask him about his illness, however, without distracting from the task at hand. He glanced upward. There were crossbows trained on them from up in the castle. 

_We are keeping to their terms_ , Davos reminded himself. _They will have no reason to shoot us. Stannis himself said they would all die for any treachery._

Lord Frey was one of the oldest people Davos had ever seen. Even though he had been carried down to their meeting place in a chair, Davos suspected his mind was still as sharp as ever, which made him nothing if not dangerous. 

"So," Lord Walder said. "This is the next king who asks for my favor. You have the look of your grandfather, boy, if none of his sense." 

Stannis' teeth clacked together so loudly Davos could hear it. 

"What have you to offer me, then?" the old man went on. "They all offer me things. The little boy who sits the throne now has been better to me than I think you will be, heh." 

"I have your sons," Stannis said. "Ser Hosteen is a prisoner at White Harbor. Ser Edwyn is back at my camp with several more. Sons, grandsons, great-grandsons." 

Lord Walder smiled a toothless smile. "Aye, that is something I've got that you don't, eh? Sons. Edwyn is my heir now, isn't he? Wondered where he'd got to. You can keep him and the rest. This castle is crawling with sons and grandsons, and I can always make more. The ones you've got aren't worth a king with no throne who spends too much time staring into the fire. Martyn, Walder, take me back." 

The two young men in Frey surcoats picked up Lord Walder's chair and carried him back inside the castle. Davos reached out to draw Stannis back as the portcullis was lowered. Stannis stared a moment, as though someone might come back and speak to him before turning to stride back up the hill, making Davos hurry to keep up.

Stannis did not speak until they had reached Ser Godry and the squires. 

"Start building siege engines," Stannis said, taking his sword belt back and refastening it. "I do not want this, but if that is how Lord Walder plans to play it, so be it." 

Ser Godry's eyes went wide. "He cares not even for his heir?" 

"No. One son is the same as any other to him, and he has more than he knows what to do with."

"Shall we burn him, then, sire? As a sacrifice to the Lord of Light?" 

Davos opened his mouth to object, what Stannis might say about it be damned, but Stannis spoke before he did. 

"No, Ser Godry. He has committed no crime, aside from that of being a Frey, and he could not help that." Stannis turned away. "I will not begin my southern campaign with fire."

Ser Godry said no more, but he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The king did not see it, but Davos did. 

**

Stannis' men spent the rest of the day felling trees and constructing equipment, while Stannis watched the twin castles, seething. 

_I ought to have expected he would not bow to me easily_ , he reminded himself. _He does nothing unless assured of victory, and I can certainly not do that, if I am honest._ He was confident he could take King's Landing, but he certainly could not guarantee it. Still, the rejection rankled. 

He could sense the tension among his men as well, as he walked among them, the army of House Umber in particular. 

"Your Grace." Mors Crowfood fell into step beside him. Stannis knew what he was going to say even before he opened his mouth. "I trust you know my nephew is in Lord Walder's custody." 

"Naturally. Lord Umber will be a valuable asset to me when we free him." Stannis trusted Mors better than he trusted the brother, though with his ridiculous bear-headed cloak, Stannis had difficulty deciding what set of eyes to look into—Mors' own or the bear's. 

"You will find that we Umbers are nothing if not hardy," Mors went on. "We will starve them out if need be." 

Stannis watched Mors return to overseeing the logging work. The man was old enough to be his grandfather, but he doubted Umber had ever withstood a siege. _If we starve them, the Greatjon is the first one they will eat._

The men worked enthusiastically, though it would be days before they were truly ready. Privately, Stannis hoped the preparation for siege could afford him the opportunity to rest. Perhaps it was the speed of their march, but his stomach had continued to disagree with him ever since they left the Kingsroad. Half of what he ate repelled him and even a simple walk through the camp left him fatigued. 

He only picked at his supper; he knew he'd aroused Devan's worry by now. It was unsurprising; the boy had his father's heart. He could only hope Devan would not go immediately to Davos. 

_Not with my heat coming_ , Stannis thought as he took one more look out his tent flap at the two dark shapes rising above the river. _At least we are far enough south. I should be able to make my potion without difficulty._

This thought comforted him little, as he still felt awful. Worse than an ordinary heat. _Sometimes they are bad_ , he reminded himself. _There is no rhyme or reason to it._

There certainly could be no other explanation.

**

Stannis woke nauseous and was barely able to stagger an acceptable distance from his tent before he was sick. Luckily, the fog from the river was thick enough that he didn't think anyone saw him. Devan was still asleep when he came back in with mud on his bare feet. 

Stannis refused breakfast, and when it came time for him to dress, he refused his mail.

"Just the jerkin," he told Devan. The lad looked at him oddly, but he helped Stannis on with it regardless. The leather jerkin still rubbed uncomfortably against his chest, but he could not imagine the heavy mail over him in his present state. 

"Your Grace?" 

Ser Richard Horpe was standing in the door of the tent. 

"What is it?" 

"A Frey man, sire. Calls himself Ronel Rivers. Says he's got news, but he won't say what it is without you."

Stannis sighed. _More complications, no doubt, more Frey desires. I know what he asked of Robb Stark. I will wed my cousin Andrew to one of his offspring if it comes to that, but Shireen will not sit the Iron Throne with a Frey for a consort._

He allowed Devan to pin his cloak on him and stepped out into the morning mist. Davos was already there; he seemed to have been summoned when he still lay abed, for his tunic was rumpled and his hair appeared to have been tied back without being brushed. Ser Godry was with him, massive arms crossed over his chest, staring down a tall, weasel-faced man with long dark hair. 

When he saw Stannis, he took a knee. 

"Your Grace, my name is Ronel Rivers. I am Lord Walder's natural son. I come to you with a heavy heart. My lord father passed into the Stranger's company during the night." 

"Dead?" said Justin Massey. "Walder Frey is dead?" He said it in the same tone as if he'd just been told Stannis had flown. 

This was the last thing Stannis expected to hear, nor had he expected to be bowed to and called _Your Grace_. He could not speak.

Thankfully, as always, Davos was there for him. "We are sorry to hear of your loss, Ser Ronel. If the king or any of his host can be of any assistance to your and your family, you have but to ask."

"Thank you, my lord." Ronel Rivers still faced the wet grass, and Stannis was becoming tired of the show. 

"Rise," he said. "Do I take it you yield?" 

Ronel Rivers stood. "My nephew, Walder—we call him Black Walder—yields. He is Edwyn's brother and was left in command when Edwyn rode out to meet your host." He spoke as though Edwyn had been heading a party to welcome Stannis to the riverlands. "My father was quite set in his ways, Your Grace, but Black Walder does so love his brother. Edwyn is Lord of the Crossing now and we want him home while we mourn Father, if it pleases Your Grace." 

Stannis sought Davos' gaze, but his expression was as baffled as Stannis felt. He would not have been surprised to awaken in his bed; his dreams had been bizarre enough in the past few days that this would not be out of place. Or, for all Stannis knew, there were hundreds of Freys lurking in the fog waiting to cut them all to pieces.

"Black Walder bids you come in and break your fast with him," Ronel went on. 

"What of my nephew?" Mors Umber said. Stannis had not even been aware of his approach through the mist. "What of Lord Umber?"

"He is well," Ronel said urgently, obviously intimidated by the bear-head cloak. "He will be released, perhaps even as we speak, though he wanted for nothing. He was kept in noble captivity, not in any dungeon, ser." 

Mors Umber narrowed his eyes, but said nothing more. 

"We will break bread with you," Stannis said, "and accept your fealty." 

Ronel bowed once more. "May I see Edwyn, Your Grace?" 

Stannis waved for a guard to take him to the prisoners. He wanted to consult with his council.

"Sire, I do not trust them," Davos said, as soon as Ronel Rivers had left. 

"Nor do I, but what can I do, Davos? I cannot put them to the siege if they surrender. Uncle?"

Lomas rubbed his chin. "You are right about that, Your Grace. If they say they are your men, you ought take them. And you will not turn your back to a one of them."

The coincidence of Lord Walder's death gnawed at Stannis as his party entered the Twins, led by Edwyn Frey and Ronel Rivers.

_The last king who came here did not leave alive_ , he reminded himself. 

Edwyn had wept when told of his great-grandfather's death. Stannis saw through that, just as he saw through it when they bowed to him. What he could not discern was what was truly at hand here. What had happened within these walls while he slept? 

"Your Grace." Black Walder Frey met them when they rode across the drawbridge. "House Frey acknowledges the true king of the Seven Kingdoms." He met Stannis' party with an uncountable contingent of relatives, more people than Stannis had ever had kneel to him at once. He felt that this could not go unacknowledged.

"Your king welcomes the aid of House Frey," he said, not knowing what else might go into an appropriate speech. "I will need men and swords and spears to take my throne."

They all stared back at him, making him vaguely uncomfortable. _There are too many Freys._

Once they had dismounted and given up their horses, Stannis allowed himself to be led into the hall. His nausea had quieted some; he would attempt breakfast. 

"What happened here?" Devan asked. 

The party had just entered the great hall and Stannis realized what had drawn the lad's attention. There was a large bloodstain on the flags below one of the tables. A team of serving maids was still scrubbing at it. 

"Ah." Black Walder's face darkened. "Have you any brothers, lad?"

"Yes, ser." 

"You quarrel with them?" 

Devan grinned. "Sometimes." 

Black Walder nodded at the bloodstain. "Some brothers don't stop."

Davos looked ill.

"Explain yourself," Stannis demanded. 

Black Walder looked grave. "I regret that two of my uncles took Great-Grandfather's death very hard. They were deep in their cups, drowning their grief, when an old argument resurfaced. Tempers can fray here, and shock can do things to men. Lothar and Whalen slew each other last night."

"Lord of Light preserve us," Ser Godry said. "Sire, these Freys—"

"I assure you," Black Walder went on, "it is not the sort of hospitality you will usually find at the Twins." 

"We have heard tales of your hospitality," Davos said darkly.

"And so you have." Black Walder's eyes were cast down. "And that, indeed, was Lothar's doing. I cannot say I mourn him; he manipulated Great-Grandfather in his old age. It is my deepest regret that House Frey played any part in such treachery. The Frey name will be judged by this for generations to come. My brother Edwyn, our new lord, must do as he sees fit to punish those who took part in the treachery."

Edwyn looked pale. "Surely that can wait til after breakfast."

"I want to see my nephew," Mors Umber said. "Nothing until then."

"I'll have him brought to you," Edwyn said, still not looking used to his new role. Stannis supposed he wouldn't be; no one had expected Walder Frey would ever die, much less that very night.

They heard Greatjon Umber before they saw him. Stannis had never met him but he'd heard about him from Robert and he'd always likened him to his brother in his mind—an alpha lacking wits and sense alike. The way he cursed his captors inventively even as they brought him to freedom did not disabuse him of the notion.

_No matter_ , Stannis thought. _He is one more ally, and his people love him._ Even if there was treachery coming from the Freys, Stannis had allies aplenty to counter it. 

**

Davos half feared even to break bread in this cursed place where brothers slew each other the night their father died. It was for this reason he ordered Ser Richard and Ser Godry out of the keep to return to the camp. Throughout the meal, he kept his eyes on the Freys and their men.

After eating they were led to guest quarters in the Water Tower where the king and his party could be accommodated. 

"Did they treat you poorly?" Hother Umber asked his nephew once they were free of Freys.

"Tolerably." The Greatjon settled his bulk into a chair. "They treated the ones they killed worse." His eyes were fixed on Stannis when he said that. "Rid us of the Boltons, have you?" 

Davos held his breath, hoping Stannis would not react in anger at the disrespect. 

"I have," he said evenly. "Your liege lord is restored to Winterfell as my Warden of the North. Those who betrayed you have met justice. I can aid you toward further vengeance. Your uncles and their men have been valuable to me so far; it would please me to have your sword." 

There was a brief pause, then Umber grinned. "I was still hoping to have another crack at the Freys. I had a bite of one of them, but— _pah!_ —I hope none of you ever need taste Frey." 

"I certainly trust them not," Stannis said. "But if they are willing to give us their men, I will not refuse them."

The Greatjon smirked. "Be sure to have them at the front, then, when we march on the Red Keep." 

"Did you hear anything, Jon?" his uncle Mors asked. "It is damned odd what happened last night. Too damned odd." 

The Greatjon shook his head. "Heard nothing. Saw nothing. They say the old man died…"

"He was as hale as I am," said Mors Umber. "He died by treachery."

"And where is the proof?" cut in his brother Hother. "We cannot accuse our hosts of kinslaying. Edwyn, the heir, was _our prisoner_. It would not benefit this Black Walder to have his brother made lord." 

Mors Umber leaned toward his brother. "Who knows what goes through the heads of such—" 

"Please, my lords," Davos said, seeing the look that passed over Stannis' face. "All may become apparent in time. For now, I urge you to rest, have your men rest. We have the next stage of our campaign to plan." 

He hardly felt confident as Hand, especially with a dozen lords from old Northern families staring at him. At least the men who had been with Stannis from the beginning knew him; the Onion Lord was a novelty and a curiosity to the Northmen. 

"We will send word when this council is next to meet," he concluded.

The lords filed out, some still grumbling to each other. Davos remained where he was, waiting for the words he knew were coming from Stannis. 

"Devan, Larence, you are dismissed as well. Davos, I should like to speak with you."

Distantly, he hoped Stannis would confide in him if he was ill, but he wasn't surprised at the first words out of his mouth.

"What do you make of this, Davos?" Stannis leaned forward on the table, blue eyes boring into him. "What happened here?" 

Davos stroked his beard. "I cannot say, sire. Something did, of that I am sure. Perhaps it was as Ser Walder says. Perhaps the brothers fought and slew each other in their cups. They do not deny a fight occurred, and the hall was in disarray. But more men were wounded. I noticed them, though they tried to hide it."

"They tried to pull the brothers apart." Stannis rose and began to pace. "There was no point in telling us how many men were injured doing that, but two brothers do not draw steel on each other at table without their kinsmen trying to stop them."

"It could be that," Davos allowed. 

"Regardless," Stannis said, "we cannot afford to ignore them. We must keep them close to keep an eye on them."

"I would agree with that." Davos made to take his leave. "Have you need of anything else, Your Grace?"

It went unspoken between them, but Davos knew as well as Stannis did how many weeks had passed since their night together in White Harbor. 

"No. I require nothing else." Stannis paused. "Thank you, Davos."

He took his leave.

**

Stannis waited for full dark, then slipped out of the castle via the postern gate. With his plain gray traveling cloak on, and his hood pulled up, he was indistinguishable from any common soldier.

He found what he needed immediately. The redwort flowers grew well in the muddy ground of the banks of the Trident. He found the other ingredients as well and was soon back in his quarters, mixing his potion. He threw open the window to let in the night air, the same way it had always been in Maester Cressen's workroom.

In truth, he liked the work. It calmed him to fall into the familiar rhythm of chopping, grinding, and brewing, something he had done every eight weeks since the age of fifteen. Before long, he had a cup of red-tinged tea, which he settled down to sip as he reviewed the proposed strategy map he'd developed with his council. 

He had not managed half the cup when a sudden rebellion overtook his stomach. He shoved the mug onto the table and lurched for the chamber pot, barely making it before what he'd just downed came back up. 

How could he _still_ be sick? He had never been this ill before a heat before; the severity of his symptoms heralded something else at work.

He had little time to contemplate it before he was sick again. He had to drink his potion to keep his heat at bay. What would he do if he couldn't keep it down?

"Stannis?" 

Stannis felt a rush of dread tinged with guilt. His uncle stood in the doorway, the last person Stannis wanted to see. 

"You're ill. Let me call the maester." 

"No!" Stannis hated how the word left his mouth, a desperate plea. 

Lomas was crossing the room towards him, and Stannis knew before it happened that his charade was over. Lomas' gaze fell on his cup.

"Oh," he said. "I see." 

Stannis took an involuntary step forward, though his stomach threatened to betray him once more. "It's not—"

"Not what it looks like?" Lomas sniffed the cup. "Do you mean to tell me you like the taste of this stuff?" 

Stannis pressed his lips together. He was too sick to argue. "No."

"I must confess this is a surprise." 

Stannis wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and reached for the water jug. "I didn't want anyone to know." 

"Not even me." 

Stannis scowled at him. "You did not exactly make yourself approachable." His uncle was a hard man; they were not unalike, he reflected, in this respect and others.

Lomas rubbed his chin. "When did you start taking that potion?"

"When I was fifteen. It has never upset my stomach before." He paused. "Maester Cressen made it for me. He gave me the choice to stop the heats and live as a beta." He looked down, never having imagined he would ever find himself in the position of confiding in his omega uncle, but now that he was, the words came surprisingly freely. 

Lomas nodded. "No doubt I would have, too, had I the means at your age, but our maester told my father as soon as I showed signs. I started taking the brew after Andrew was born, but the damage was already done. I was never the same in Father's eyes, or my brother's. No matter what I had done before then, no matter how capable a warrior I had proved myself to be, I was an omega and nothing more."

"If Robert had known…"

"I know, lad." There was a softness to Lomas' voice he'd never heard before. There had never been a special fondness between them, but now Stannis thought that perhaps his uncle did like him, that perhaps there was a reason other than ambition that had prompted him to throw his lot in with Stannis even as Uncle Aemon and Grandfather had betrayed him. "You do know you're with child, then?" 

_With child?_ His stomach tightened. The thought had not crossed his mind, though he knew it was foolish. "That's not possible." 

Lomas smirked. "Have you lain with an alpha?" 

Stannis paused. He could not deny it, especially if he did turn out to be pregnant. "Yes." He said no more; he would not shame Davos before his uncle. 

Uncle Lomas nodded. "Well, then. There you have it. You've been sick, I've noticed, and now you cannot stomach the redwort potion. That happens if you try to drink it when you're already with child."

"But—I can't be." He didn't know why he was still repeating this; it seemed to be all he could say. 

"You've lain with an alpha," Lomas said sharply. "Then you could be with child. Or did that maester of yours neglect your education on that front?"

"No," Stannis answered, admonished. 

"Would you like me to get the maester?" 

Stannis hesitated. In this moment, he found himself plagued with indecision. "No," he said quietly. "I want Davos first." 

Understanding seemed to dawn on Lomas' face. "I will have him sent to you, then."

Stannis settled back at his table as his uncle left and shoved the cup of redwort tea away. There was naught it could do now.


	5. Chapter Four

Davos was writing a letter home when he was summoned to see Stannis. He laid his quill down and took up his candle, fully prepared to be asked for a repeat of the service he'd performed two months prior.

As he walked through the twisting corridors of the Twins, though, his stomach roiled. As much as he'd tried to convince himself that this was meaningless sex performed only out of duty, he could not completely set aside his regard for Stannis. If a repeat performance was required—and Davos was surprised, for they were surely now far enough south for Stannis to get the herbs he needed—he did not know for how many heat cycles he could continue to perform this duty for his king.

"Your Grace." He bowed when he entered Stannis' chamber. The king sat at the table, his face looking even grimmer than usual. Davos stopped. One thing he could tell for sure was that Stannis was not in heat.

"Sit down, Davos," Stannis said evenly.

Davos sat. He had known Stannis long enough to tell that now was not a time for questions.

Stannis closed his eyes and took a bracing breath. "There is a development of which you must be made aware."

Davos relaxed. This was surely about Stannis' push for the throne. Davos was much more willing to discuss war and politics than he was relations between alphas and omegas.

"You have my ears, sire."

Stannis pulled a cup toward himself and took a sip. Davos could smell the tea, ginger with lemon. He had never known Stannis to drink tea, and he sipped it slowly. "Forgive me my directness, Davos, but there is no other way to say this." He paused again, and Davos' nerves returned, as though he dreaded some terrible pronouncement. "I am with child."

Davos felt as though the floor were tipping beneath him. He gripped the arm of his chair. "Sire, I—"

"The child is yours, naturally," he said quickly, as though this might be in doubt, though it had never crossed Davos' mind that Stannis might have slept with someone else.

"Naturally," Davos said.

Stannis blushed—Stannis Baratheon actually blushed. Davos would have found it adorable if he hadn't been so apprehensive himself. "It certainly wasn't my intention to fall pregnant that night, Davos."

"Of course not, sire." His hands curled and uncurled on his knees.

"But I do intend to… keep the child… if that is all right with you."

Davos swallowed hard, unable to answer. It had been entirely up to Stannis what he wanted to do with the results of their night together, but he had to admit he was pleased to be told he was to be a father again. It never lost its luster, not even the eighth time, not even under these entirely odd, uncertain circumstances. He blinked fast, surprised to find tears in his eyes. "It is certainly all right with me, Your Grace."

Stannis seemed to relax. "I never wanted this, Davos."

"I know, sire. I would not have blamed you if you wished to…" He paused. "Be rid of it." He felt awkward at confessing his surprise that Stannis actually wanted to carry the child; he certainly didn't want Stannis to think he had to for Davos' sake.

"I thought so as well, but…" He sipped his tea. "It is mine, and that is something… I may never get another chance at a child, at a son…" His gaze looked very far away. "And your sons, Davos—"

"They knew what they were doing, sire," Davos said quietly. The pain was still raw, though he knew Stannis had not meant to reopen the wound. "My boys—"

"I know. I know I can never replace them or make up for those losses in my service, but… I should like to give you a child nonetheless." Stannis touched his belly, though it was still perfectly flat under his tunic.

Davos smiled, wanting to show Stannis the babe was wanted, no matter its circumstances. "I am grateful, sire, and gladly welcome the babe." He knew it was impossibly early, but the prospect was tantalizing. He had expected to wait for Devan to give him grandchildren to hold another babe in his arms, and he offered a quick prayer to the Mother to see Stannis safely through his pregnancy.

Stannis sighed. "I shan't change my mind on this, but…" He shook his head. "Now all must know what I am."

"There's no shame in it, sire," Davos said quickly. "Where I come from, one's nature means naught. Salladhor Saan is an omega, as I'm sure you know."

Stannis' lips twitched. "Shall I take inspiration from a pirate?"

Davos allowed himself a small smile. "Mayhaps not so directly, but you can see he has achieved all that an alpha may have in his chosen line of work."

"Omega pirates there may be; I have never heard of an omega king."

"One must be the first, and I can think of no one better suited."

"I may lose the men I have."

"You may," Davos admitted. "But I think if you feared that more, you would not have kept the child."

Stannis rose and went to the window; Davos said nothing, having learned over the years that Stannis was sometimes best left to his own thoughts.

"Once again, Davos, you cut right to it." He sighed. "I hope I can be forgiven this one indulgence."

"You needn't tell them right away," Davos pointed out, unsure of what part of this Stannis regarded as an indulgence. "Get closer to the throne, and when the time is right, make it known that the succession is secure."

Stannis exhaled in what Davos had come to recognize as what passed for laughter for him. "You are too right, Davos." He sobered. "I know it is early. I need not worry about it yet. But I will do all I can to ensure the child's safety." He paused. "But there is one thing you have forgotten, my Hand."

"What is that?"

Stannis turned. "The child will be a bastard. It has no bearing on the succession."

Davos felt his face grow hot. He had spoken without thinking. Even after all these years, how could he forget how obsessed the highborn were with legitimacy? Stannis' shame was now doubled. "Your Grace, I—I am truly sorry to have inconvenienced you this way."

"It was not your fault, Davos, or at least not solely your fault. Blame always lies with two in the matter of bastard children." He sighed. "It is in my power to legitimize. I may do that for our child."

"Either way," Davos hazarded, unsure what he thought of the implications of Stannis legitimizing their bastard, "I will love a Waters as much as any of my legitimate children."

Stannis did smile then, the slight lift of his mouth Davos had learned to relish and look forward to. "But, Davos, this child must be called Storm."

Davos returned the smile, feeling as good as he could about any of this. 

_A babe in my arms_ , he thought. _That is what I will get of this, gods willing, and be glad for it. I care nothing for legitimacy or succession._

"Have you seen a maester?" he asked. 

"No." Stannis shifted with reluctance. "Tomorrow. I cannot say I trust anyone in service to the Freys."

"A maester's priority should be yours and the babe's health." Even as he said this, Davos wasn't sure he entirely believed it either, but he felt compelled to suggest it. 

"I suppose I will have to trust that." Stannis' gaze was distant, as though he could not stop contemplating the ramifications of his pregnancy as they occurred to him. "I have a duty to the babe." He looked down at himself again, as though his belly might have swelled as they were talking. 

"And I know that you will see it through," Davos said calmly. Much was uncertain, but that he knew for sure.

At this, Stannis blinked and nodded. He said nothing more before Davos took his leave; he didn't need to. He was long past needing Stannis' thanks. He could tell when he'd rendered a service. 

**

Stannis had hoped telling Davos would lift the weight from his shoulders but he felt no better about his situation when he retired. He lay awake long into the night, contemplating the life that was supposedly growing inside him. He would have to summon the maester tomorrow; it was the only wise thing. He had the child to think of, and that was, at least, more important than his own shame or pride. 

More than anything he longed for Maester Cressen. He would have received the news with calm understanding and done everything Stannis needed done for his pregnancy without making him seem like he'd somehow failed. 

He touched his belly again, still flat, of course. He felt like a fool for slipping his hand under his tunic, but the child _was_ in there, his child and Davos'. They had made it together and while it had been a moment of weakness on Stannis' part, he was not going to throw the opportunity away, slim chance that it was. He knew what the responsible thing for one in his position was supposed to be, and he knew what herbs to use for that potion as well. But he knew by now that he didn't want that. He wanted to bear Davos' child, as unreal as that sounded, bastard or no. 

He tried to push aside all those concerns and rose to call the maester. His bid for the throne, close enough to taste was aught that mattered now. That and the health of the babe. 

**

Davos stood steadfastly at his side as Maester Brenett was admitted.

The maester bowed awkwardly. "How can I be of use, Your Grace?"

Stannis immediately did not trust him but he was all that was available. "Maester, what I say does not leave this room." He narrowed his eyes, trying at least to look intimidating, even if the man could not be trusted. "I am an omega. I have concealed this all my life. I now believe myself to be with child and ask your assistance." 

The maester seemed momentarily taken aback but moved forward briskly. "Your Grace, I do know about pregnancy. My late lord was a fertile man."

Stannis was glad for Davos' presence as he disrobed and was subjected to all the indignities at the maester's disposal. 

"You are with child," the maester finally said, once Stannis had been examined inside and out. "I am sure of it." 

"Thank you," Stannis said, forcing himself to look at him and perhaps impress upon him the wisdom of remaining quiet. "You may go. Breathe not a word of this."

"Of course not, sire." 

Stannis still did not trust him, but he could not take back having had to call on him. He didn't speak again until the door had shut. 

"I know not what to do now, Davos." He didn't move, even to dress again. It wasn't as though Davos hadn't seen him naked, though he had pulled the sheet up to cover himself. 

Davos seemed to need to take a moment to answer. "How do you feel?" 

"Tolerable. Though I can never know when the nausea will come on me. My uncle's tea has helped." 

"Then I should say, if you are up to it, you should continue your work of planning your campaign. Surely you have commanders who are equipped to take castles in the Riverlands, if you are not well enough to travel."

"That is true." Stannis didn't like the idea that he wasn't able to continue with his army, didn't like the implications that he would spend his entire pregnancy here at the Twins. "It will give Greatjon Umber an occupation away from the Freys before he kills any more of them." 

"Not to mention Black Walder Frey," Davos added. Stannis knew he misliked the man from the casual way he'd spoken of brothers killing each other to Devan and he was happy to be rid of him for Davos' sake. 

"Exactly." 

**

They fell into a comfortable routine at the Twins. Davos was there when he rose—he'd discovered a flat, dry bread which was a specialty of the Riverlands, and when Stannis ate it before rising, his nausea was reduced. He still found himself caught off his guard by odd smells, and he avoided the cesspit, the privy, and the kitchens, but he was able to last through a meeting of his war council without running for the garderobe. 

They spoke little about the pregnancy, though Stannis was reminded of it constantly, and Davos seemed even more willing than usual to be of use than he usually was. 

He dispatched commanders to inform various riverlords of his presence and claim to the throne, and that he intended to take Riverrun. He sent the Greatjon to Seagard to free the Mallisters, and ordered Black Walder to Pinkmaiden to the south. To his uncle, he gave the siege of Riverrun. 

The morning he rode out with his forces was cold, and Stannis hoped he did not pull his cloak too noticeably close as he stood in the courtyard to say good-bye.

"I will not fail, Your Grace," Lomas said to the ground. It was still disconcerting to have his uncle kneel before him, but Stannis was glad to have him after having lost the support of the rest of his relatives. 

"I would not send someone I thought might fail." 

That got a smirk from Uncle Lomas. Now that he knew his secret, Stannis had been more awkward than usual around his uncle, but he wasn't sending him away for that. He truly was his best commander, and if he trusted him more for being blood kin, so be it. His inlaws the Florents had been faithless enough, though so had his grandfather and other uncle, for that matter. 

Lomas rose. "Good luck," he said quietly. "These first few weeks are the worst. After that, it gets better."

Stannis nodded, recognizing that this was warmth for his uncle. "I'll follow," he said. "My condition won't stop me from taking what's mine."

Lomas smirked. "Of that I have no doubt."

Davos stood beside him on the ramparts as they watched Lomas ride out with his men. Stannis was not going to let a one of them see how ready he was to collapse on his feet. It was ridiculous—he'd done nothing to exert himself all day. Why should he be so tired? 

He suppressed a yawn.

"How are you feeling, Your Grace?"

Davos' question cut through the fog in his brain as though he could read his mind. 

"As though the child is sucking every ounce of energy from me." 

Davos smiled. "They tend to do that. You _are_ making an entirely new person. It's rather amazing, actually."

Stannis frowned. He had not thought of it like that. He had not been privy to the details of Selyse's pregnancy, but he remembered when he had been summoned after Shireen was born. It had been overwhelming to hold her in his arms and think that his omega seed had made her. 

How would it be to actually carry and bear his own child? 

He touched his abdomen reflexively. "I suppose it is."

"No one would criticize you if you needed a rest, then. It is hard work—nearly as hard as winning a crown." 

"No one knows I am pregnant."

Davos lifted his shoulders. "No one will know you are going to rest." 

Stannis looked below them. Already, the gates were shut, and none of the force slowly marching away from the Twins was looking back. Behind them, the rest of the inhabitants of the castle were going back to their business. "I suppose you are right," he conceded. 

Davos accompanied Stannis to his chamber. At first, Stannis bristled—he did not need an escort—but then he realized what Davos was doing. 

"You may rest," Davos said, settling down into a chair and picking up a stack of papers, "and I will be here, working, so that anyone may think we are deep in consultation." 

Stannis watched him a moment, as though needing to confirm he meant to do nothing else. Then, he sat on the bed and watched Davos for a bit longer. When he showed no signs of suddenly transforming into the sort of alpha who would control his omega's every move, Stannis pulled off his boots and stretched out on the bed. It felt good to close his eyes; all his weariness seemed suddenly to catch up with him. 

"I won't go to sleep," he told Davos. "I'll rest my eyes for just a moment." 

"Of course, sire." He heard the rustle of papers, and the quiet murmur of Davos reading to himself. 

Perhaps there was nothing wrong with closing his eyes just for a little bit.

**

Davos had not intended to make himself the manager of Stannis' pregnancy, but he couldn't keep himself from helping where he thought he was needed. At any time, he supposed, Stannis could have dismissed him, but he didn't. Perhaps he _did_ appreciate the help.

"We must leave," Stannis said one morning when they were breaking their fast. He had developed an appetite lately and seemed to be taking advantage of it. Davos seemed always to be studying him, but he could detect no sign of his pregnancy becoming visible. "I've had a report from my uncle; he expects Riverrun to fall." 

Davos opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again. He had no authority over Stannis—as much as he tried always to offer him advice, he couldn't very well tell him to remain at the Twins for the rest of his pregnancy. He would never tolerate it, and in truth, Davos didn't think it was necessary either. 

_I've gotten soft_ , he thought. _Staying here nearly alone with him. We aren't a pair of nesting newlyweds._

"I suppose you will want to be there, Your Grace?" he asked, sipping his tea. 

"Well, I shall have no objections if it falls before I get there. Lady Genna is no fool, though Emmon Frey may well be. And I want…" Stannis paused, swirling his spoon in the porridge he'd been eating by the bowlful. "I want to be in King's Landing by the time I give birth. That is the only option, Davos. I cannot have a long confinement. I will lose them all."

Davos wished he could argue with him, but he could not. He swallowed hard. "Sire—"

"Do not be concerned for me, Davos. I don't intend to go riding into battle swinging my sword. But you know I must do this; I cannot afford to wait and have my war fought for me."

"I know, sire." He felt almost guilty at having started to object in the first place. It was all ultimately up to Stannis. He was the king and the one who had to carry the child.

He was also the one with the most to lose by the revelation of his condition. 

"And I can't stay here." For the first time, Davos saw something new in Stannis' eyes—concern, anxiety, perhaps a touch of fear. "I do not trust these Freys… or their maester."

"What has the maester done?"

"Nothing." Davos could tell Stannis was frustrated by what he probably regarded as his own foolishness. "I know there will come a point where I must acknowledge that I am with child. I would just prefer to be well away from the Twins when I do."

"That is fair, Your Grace." Davos paused. "I will come with you."

Stannis seemed almost to smile. "Davos, I was under no illusions I could leave you behind."

"We needn't go fast," Davos went on. "We need only take a few men." He began listing all that he would do before they departed. Stannis nodded along, clearly feeling more comfortable now that Davos was an enthusiastic participant in his plan. 

"And then I shall be at Riverrun before I need reveal my condition," Stannis said firmly. "I don't relish traveling when I am—" He cleared his throat. "—more advanced." 

"Nor do I," Davos agreed, before rising to see to the preparations. Stannis was right. The sooner they left the Twins, the sooner they could get on with things. And if Stannis was knocking on the gates of King's Landing in an advanced state of pregnancy, so be it. If nothing else, the Lannisters would not be expecting it.


	6. Chapter Five

"I do not regret leaving the Twins." 

"I never would have imagined you did, sire."

Stannis glanced at Davos. His hood was drawn up against the rain, so Stannis couldn't see his face. But he knew Davos possessed not an ounce of inclination towards mockery and must mean what he said earnestly. 

"Even if this is a miserable slog, I would not return." 

"Pointless to return now, at any rate." Davos turned and Stannis could see his smile, through the hair plastered to his cheeks. "We're closer to Riverrun than the Twins." 

"You are quite right."

Stannis found he was struggling not to smile himself.

True to his word, before they had left the Twins, Davos had arranged a party of men able to travel quickly, who would not slow them with unnecessary protocol. They had been making good time, but the rains had come again near the end of their journey. Stannis was soaked completely and had been for days, and they'd had to dismount at times to lead their horses through mud. And Stannis was forced to stop what felt like every mile and relieve himself.

And yet, he was not upset. Each step forward, however much his boots squelched in the mud, was one step closer to the Iron Throne. 

He glanced again at Davos, plodding forward, head bowed, his horse's reins clutched in one gloved hand. How faithful Davos was for sticking so closely by him through each step of the journey. He thought of all he'd done without even being asked, how far he'd gone and how much he'd sacrificed in Stannis' service. 

He wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself. He must keep the babe warm and safe for Davos. 

_What a fool you are_ , he thought ruefully. _Pregnancy has driven you mad._

"The ground seems firmer here," he said, stopping. "I think we may ride again." He mounted up without a struggle, knowing that it wouldn't be long before he could not sit a horse. 

_Let me be on the throne by then_ , he thought, though he knew it was a battle against time. He wasn't sure if his pregnancy had become apparent yet or if he was simply bloated. There were _some_ things he needed a maester for, he thought, and they could not arrive at Riverrun fast enough for that.

**

The rain let up before they stopped for the night, and Davos surveyed the clearing they had chosen. He hoped the end of Stannis' campaign for the throne was near, not just because he hoped for victory for his king, but because he was truly getting too old for marching and camping. 

Larence Snow was working to set up the king's tent—where was Devan? Davos turned. His son was standing beside a tree, looking nervously about. 

"Devan?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

His son looked sheepish but crossed the clearing over to him. "Father, I'm worried about the king. I think he might be ill."

Davos tried not to let his surprise show on his face. He supposed someone else was bound to notice Stannis' indisposition before long, and who else but his faithful squire? He hoped it had not gone beyond that, to one of their knights who might recognize the truth behind Stannis' symptoms. 

Devan seemed to interpret this silence as Davos requiring further information. "Well, I've noticed him go off into the woods a lot. I know he's been sick. He'll just send me away." Devan looked nervous. "I think he needs a maester. I wondered if I should tell Ser Godry, but I decided to tell you first." 

Davos held his sigh. Stannis would not be pleased with that. He was lucky now that his pregnancy was easily concealed, but that would not last forever. "Thank you, Devan," he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm proud of your concern for the king."

"We haven't got a maester with us." 

"I know." 

"If you need me to, I'll ride ahead to meet Ser Lomas' forces. They took Maester Rebbo." 

"I don't think that will be necessary. But thank you. I know how you can help the king—fetch water for tea." 

Devan hurried off, and Larence emerged from the tent.

"It's ready, my lord." 

Davos motioned to Stannis who'd been pacing awkwardly at the edge of the clearing. 

"Devan is bringing tea," he explained.

"Good." Stannis sat down rather heavily. Their fast journey had resulted in few camp comforts; they were sleeping on bedrolls on the ground, but Stannis seemed as happy to sit on his as another king might have to stretch out on a full bed in a pavilion. "I need some of that. The ride has chilled me." 

"How do you feel otherwise, sire?" he asked tentatively. 

"Tolerable. Though you know how often I have had to stop." He was grinding his teeth, Davos noted.

"What can I get for you?" 

"Besides the tea?" Stannis stretched out on his bedroll. "Help me with my boots, Davos. I do not mean to make you do squire's work, but… I do not wish to show them how my feet have swollen." 

"Of course, sire." Davos knelt before him, wincing a bit. Stannis was not alone in his consternation at his body's betrayal. The damp had bothered him even more since his near-drowning on the Blackwater. 

Stannis' boots came off easily and to his obvious relief. He closed his eyes, and it didn't escape Davos' notice that his hand slipped under his tunic. He smiled. He was certainly not about to draw attention to it with a comment, but it was oddly charming to see. 

"It is still not noticeable," Stannis said, withdrawing his hand. "I might not even believe it myself had I not had a maester tell me." 

Davos laughed. "And you have certainly experienced enough of the ills that come with a babe."

"Aye." Stannis pillowed his hands behind his head. "They say things, Davos, about babes. They say one might know the sex by how one feels. I doubt there is a whiff of truth to it, though." 

"I expect people want to have some inkling of what they're going to have." Davos settled next to him.

"What would you want, Davos? Another son?" 

"I should be delighted if you gave me a son, sire. I would also be happy to have a daughter, for the gods have not yet seen fit to bless me with one." 

Stannis was silent. "You would be happy with any child."

"Aye, Your Grace. I only pray that it is healthy." 

Stannis sat up. "Then I will do my best to deliver you a healthy babe. That is what you deserve." 

Davos smiled. "And I should like a healthy king, too." 

Stannis flushed and looked away. "I am healthy and plan to remain so. There will be maesters at Riverrun to ensure that." He rose. "Now, let us have tea and something to eat. That is the only threat to my health right now. First, this child would not accept anything I put into my mouth, now it wants that I should eat everything I have at hand." 

**

They had traveled light from the Twins, but there was plenty of game in the woods about. One of the men had caught a rabbit and presented it to Stannis. It was soon cooking over the fire, and his stomach rumbled at the smell of the fat dripping from the meat. 

"This should be enough for us both," Davos said, "unless you are hungrier?" 

"No." Stannis felt himself flush. "Certainly not enough for a whole rabbit."

Davos did not have a large appetite, which was fortunate because Stannis was, indeed, hungry. The rabbit was delicious, as was the bread and cheese they'd carried with them. The night was clear and it was almost cozy to sit by the fire with Davos, close because of the chill night. 

It did seem to be getting colder. They'd been lucky to have had no snow since they'd been south of the Neck, but as night descended, the sky threatened flurries at the least. 

"Don't bother setting up your own tent," he said, wiping the meat juices from his fingers. "You can share mine. It will be a cold night and may snow." 

Davos looked up at the trees, seeming to make the same calculations as Stannis. "That seems wise, sire." 

It wasn't until they were actually in the tent, their bedrolls drawn together that Stannis realized the potential awkwardness of the situation. He could say nothing of it aloud, though. 

"Good night, Davos," he said, swallowing hard. "With luck, we will press on tomorrow and be at Riverrun or nearly."

"That will be good," Davos said, "especially if snow is to come." 

Stannis frowned, wondering if there was more to say. "Good night," he said again.

Davos smiled. "Good night." 

Stannis lay down, his back to Davos, but he did not sleep. 

His mind was racing back to the night they'd lain together and made the child he was now carrying. He moved his hand under his furs to touch his belly. There was a slight curve to it. He had not imagined it earlier, he was certain. He didn't think it was enough to be obvious to anyone else, but Stannis could tell it was there, the evidence of the child that would soon become apparent.

He could no longer pretend to himself that it wasn't there, and lying here beside Davos put him in mind of the night he had been in heat. 

It didn't help that, in his sleep, Davos seemed to have pressed closer to him, nor did it help matters that Stannis welcomed the warmth. He turned. It seemed easier to share their warmth like this. 

"Davos," he said quietly, "are you warm enough?"

"With you there, sire, I am." 

So he hadn't been asleep. Stannis felt his face grow hot. Davos had drawn near to him of his own accord. He was even more conscious of his belly now, but Davos did not remark on it.

 _He hasn't noticed it_ , Stannis reminded himself. _Only you can know the difference at this point._

But that didn't mean it wasn't there. He thought of the child, too small to feel. The time would come, sooner than he might like, when he would feel it, when others would know, when it would be born and exist in the world. 

He settled his arm on his own side, not wanting to touch Davos unnecessarily. Warmth was one thing; he did not want to impose on him or make him think he had further obligations. Having helped with his heat was enough. 

He closed his eyes. Even if he did not sleep, he could at least rest them.

**

He was awakened what seemed like an instant later by something tickling his nose. 

He blinked blearily. Perhaps he _had_ slept. The light filtering in through the tent suggested so. And he did feel inexplicably comfortable. There was just the matter of that which was tickling his nose…

Which proved to be Davos' hair. 

He resisted the urge to jerk back. Sometime during the night, Davos had huddled closer to him so that his head was tucked under Stannis' chin. 

Even worse, at some point, Stannis' arm, carefully held out of the way, had fallen over Davos' middle. Had this been what had spurred him to move closer? 

He gingerly lifted his arm and rolled backward, careful not to pull at Davos' hair, nor think too much about running his fingers through it. This landed him on wet ground, but at least Davos had not awakened. 

Stannis stood slowly, wrapping his cloak about himself. The scents coming from outside the tent told him it had snowed during the night and that it was high time to be up. He pulled his boots on and stepped out into the chill dawn. 

The cold air was invigorating for his nerves. It had not snowed much, and his boots crunched on the frost.

 _May this child not see much of winter_ , he thought, then cursed himself for sentimentality. It was winter now and that was what he had to worry about. 

"Good morning, Your Grace." Devan appeared at his elbow. "Are you well this morning?" 

Stannis was taken aback before remembering how Devan must have noticed Stannis be sick in the mornings, considering how often he'd gone running from the tent to the bushes on mornings past. When he thought of it like that, the fact that he was pregnant should have been patently obvious. "I am well," he said. To deny it or make excuses would draw even more attention to it. He patted Devan's shoulder. "What of you?"

Devan looked surprised. "I… I'm all right, Your Grace. Cold."

"Yes. It is that. We will be warm if we move about." With that, Stannis strode off further into the woods to relieve himself. _That_ was one problem of pregnancy that had not left him. 

**

Davos woke to find Stannis gone and himself wrapped in extra furs. He smiled from his cozy cocoon. It would perhaps have been cozier with someone else… 

He had to stop this line of thinking. There was no indication Stannis wanted that from him; last night had been a cold one and Davos would have welcomed anyone's body heat. 

He stretched. "Come now, slugabed," he said aloud. "Your king has been up hours."

"Not even one," said a voice.

Davos pulled the furs away from his face. "Good morning, sire." 

Stannis was obviously trying hard not to look amused. "Tea," he said, passing Davos a cup. "Then we move on to Riverrun." 

Davos accepted the cup with a smile, pleased when Stannis' own lips twitched upwards. That was always a triumph. 

**

Stannis was glad to reach Riverrun, even though it was near dark when they passed through the gates, for it would mean he did not need to spend another night huddled next to Davos. That was a pleasure he could not allow himself to indulge in again, lest he betray his true feelings. _I must not let Davos see how his loyalty is rewarded with prurient thoughts._

His uncle had ridden out to meet him, a satisfied look on his face. "I suppose my raven missed you. The castle is yours, Your Grace."

Stannis felt himself swell with pride as all the small irritations of the journey seemed to evaporate in an instant. None of the discomforts that came with being cold, wet, and pregnant mattered now. 

"Well done, Ser Lomas," Davos said, and Stannis was once more grateful that his Hand possessed whatever social niceties he lacked. 

"Yes," he added gruffly. "As I missed your raven, I will hear your tale now, uncle."

"I will tell it when we are inside. It looks likely to snow again."

As though the heavens had heard him, a light snow began to fall as they passed through the castle gates.

Stannis was glad for his uncle's likeness to himself in eschewing pleasantries. They were immediately ushered up to the lord's solar. Lomas had already been using the room for his own purposes, judging by the roaring fire and the books and papers spread out on the desk. 

"You were right that Lady Genna would know which way the wind was blowing," Lomas said. "She is a clever woman." 

"She prevailed upon Emmon Frey to see sense?"

Lomas scowled. "Would that he were not an omega. He diminishes the rest of us by association." 

"Well, your king is an omega," Stannis said. There was no one else in the solar after the servants had departed, and Lomas was too intelligent a man not to have figured out that Davos was the one who had assisted him with his heat. There would be no secrets before his Hand. "Let them say an omega is not fit to lead an army when I take the capital." 

With that, he sat, for the first time since he'd entered Riverrun. He was tired, but refused to show it. Davos and his uncle both sat with him. The warmth of the fire was a comfort after the long journey, and he found he was fantasizing about bed. 

"And how does my king fare?" Lomas asked.

"Well." Despite his avowal to hide nothing from Davos, he was reluctant to speak in detail about his pregnancy in front of both of them together. 

"Good." Lomas leaned back in his chair. "It will be some time before we can take your throne, Your Grace. Word will have to spread who sits in Riverrun and then we will have the Riverlands."

"What of the Tully boy?"

"Ordered released by Lady Genna. He is on his way back to his seat with his bride and his heir." 

Stannis nodded. 

"I've sent his uncle as an envoy."

Stannis looked up. "The Blackfish?" 

"He appeared and offered his assistance when I laid siege to the castle. It was he who entered the castle and accepted the surrender on my behalf. He is not bad for an alpha." He nodded at Davos. "No offense, my lord."

Davos smiled. "None taken."

"Enough of this," Stannis said. "Will he join me properly or does his gratitude extent only to getting his family's seat back?" 

Lomas smirked. "You will have no worries there, nephew. He will make your case to the riverlords. They are yours." 

Stannis sank back in his chair, satisfied. "Well done, uncle." 

In retrospect, he might have known that things could not go well for him for long. 

**

 _I am getting old_ , Davos thought as woke in his bed at Riverrun. His younger self, the smuggler who had not yet met Stannis, would have scoffed at the Hand of the King, tucked in his feather bed. Each morning since they'd arrived at the castle had been a struggle to rise, so much did he enjoy his accommodations. 

_They surely expected a different sort of man when they were told to make arrangements for the King's Hand_ , he decided. He rose reluctantly, wincing at the chill. The snow that had met them at the end of the river road had continued; not lying thickly enough to be impassable, but heavy enough to be an annoyance. It was nice to look upon when one did not have to go out in it, and Davos allowed himself this brief indulgent thought. 

He moved slowly through his morning routine, in no hurry to get to Stannis. If there was urgent business, he would be sent for. 

He had finished breakfast and was watching the snow fall when Larence Snow entered. 

"A raven came for the king, my lord. Ser Lomas said I ought to bring it to you."

"Thank you, Larence."

"Shall I wait for a reply, my lord?" 

"No. I will take it to the king before that." The letter was sealed with wax and stamped with a fox; Davos slit it with trepidation. A missive from House Florent was unexpected and thus, unlikely to contain good news. 

_His Grace King Stannis Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms:_

_I write on behalf of my cousin, Lady Selyse of House Florent, to ask that the king confirm or deny certain rumors that have been communicated to us._

_His Grace's late brother had implied to my late uncle that His Grace, then the Lord Stannis, was a beta in nature. I have been made aware that the king may, in fact, be an omega. Should these rumors be true, it can be understood that His Grace would not wish to defy the late King Robert and entered the marriage at his behest, but His Grace must also agree that the fiction cannot be maintained. House Florent makes no demands save an agreement to the dissolution of the marriage so that more appropriate ones can be arranged. The Princess Shireen may remain the king's legitimate heir in the meantime._

_We hope these are naught but baseless rumors. Should the rumors be false, I pray His Grace will accept my abject apologies and I urge him to address these falsehoods._

_Alekyne Florent, Lord of Brightwater Keep_

Davos read the letter three times, until he was certain he had grasped its meaning. Reading was still relatively new to him, and this was one situation in which he could not be mistaken or miss a word.

Or perhaps he was just prolonging the inevitable. He sighed and tucked the letter into his belt. 

Stannis was in his chambers, and Devan admitted him after announcing him. Davos supposed he would not have received anyone else in his present state.

"Davos," Stannis said, turning from the mirror. "How do I look?"

Davos bit back his initial response. 

Stannis seemed unsettled by his silence. He put his hand on his belly, which was very small, but still noticeable. "Do I appear as though I am with child?

With his hand there and his usual tight doublet, there was no other answer he could give. Davos felt the letter tucked in his belt. 

Stannis did not even wait for a response. "I will wear a looser tunic." Davos watched, trying to work out when he should interrupt, as Stannis removed his doublet and pulled a loose, blue tunic on over his head.

"Your Grace," Davos began, reaching for the letter. 

"Tell me the truth, Davos." He was tugging the tunic into place; it did hide his belly, but by being shapeless more than anything. It was exactly the sort of thing a pregnant person might wear when unsuccessfully hiding the fact. 

"I think we should discuss your wardrobe later, sire. You need to read this." 

Stannis took the parchment from him, looking baffled. Davos watched him read it; a furrow appeared on his brow and he dropped his hand. 

"That damnable maester." 

"I cannot say who could have told, sire."

Stannis dropped the letter to a table and fell to pacing, rubbing his jaw. "This cannot be tolerated." 

"I do not know that the matter of who told signifies. You will have to tell people soon enough." He looked down at Stannis' middle. "Sooner rather than later, I fear." 

Stannis turned away from him. "I mean to dress loosely…" 

"It is becoming obvious." Davos did not mean to speak sharply, but Stannis needed to see reason. Had he not made it clear Davos was to be completely honest with him as his Hand? Surely that had not changed now that Stannis was carrying his child. "Sire, did you mean it when you said I was to tell you even that which you would not like to hear?" 

"Yes," Stannis said quietly, as though bracing himself. 

"If you truly mean to carry this child, you must address it. Otherwise, you ought just to have taken the moon tea and been done with it." 

Stannis opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but shut it again. He went to the window, his back to Davos. Davos waited.

"I want your child, Davos. It—" He cleared his throat. "I am ashamed of what I am, but I am anything _but_ ashamed to carry your child." 

Davos blinked, rather glad Stannis couldn't see him. "In that case, sire," he said at last, "I am filled with pride to acknowledge it."

Stannis' shoulders relaxed. "Thank you, Davos." Could he possibly have been worried about this? "I do not know how they will receive this news, but to have you is everything."

Davos went to stand beside him. "You have always had me, Your Grace." 

Stannis looked at him for a long moment; Davos felt quite scrutinized, but in all these years, he had learned nothing if not how to meet that blue glare unflinchingly. 

_Things are different_ , he thought. _We are going to have a child together, we have lain together. Even if we do not marry, it has changed something between us, even if we never talk of it._

And they could marry. His thoughts strayed again to the letter on the table. They could marry, legally, if Selyse set Stannis aside. He and Marya had already come to an agreement the septons had approved of. There was nothing now preventing them from wedding and making their child legitimate.

 _Except that I still grew up in Fleabottom_ , Davos reminded himself. _I could be the king's Hand, but not his consort._

"Davos," Stannis said. For a moment, Davos wondered if Stannis could know what he was thinking. He seemed to be leaning imperceptibly downward. Davos' heartbeat quickened. "Davos." Stannis only repeated his name before bringing the back of Davos' hand up to kiss it. 

Fire sparked up Davos' arm, but he dared not pull his hand away. It could have meant only that Stannis regarded him as a king did a loyal retainer, but he could not help but think of what else it could mean.

He certainly had not expected Stannis to kiss his hand, certainly not that hand, the left one, with its shortened fingers Stannis was now cradling delicately in his long ones. 

Stannis lifted his head, his eyes still on Davos, his cheeks flushed. "I have not the words to tell you how you are esteemed," he said quietly, "but know that you are." 

"Thank you, sire," he said faintly. He took Stannis' arm. "Come. Let us decide what we will do." _Before I do something inadvisable like kiss you, and not the hand._

**

Stannis followed Davos back to the fire and sat. He hoped Davos could not sense his agitation. He didn't know why he'd been possessed by the sudden desire to kiss Davos' hand. It had just seemed that he'd wanted to show how much Davos meant to him….

He felt his face grow hot just thinking of it. _Fool,_ he told himself. _Pregnancy is addling your brains._

"Now, let us lay out our options," Davos said briskly. Stannis was grateful for his Hand always handling any awkwardness so deftly. They would not sit and stare at each other thinking about the kiss. 

"The maester has told," Stannis said baldly. But even as he said it, he began to doubt himself. "Or…" 

"Or?" 

He sighed. He had not yet admitted this to Davos due to his own embarrassment, but it seemed he would now have to. "Melisandre might have known. She might be with Selyse. They…" He cleared his throat and forbore to continue. 

"How could she have known?" 

Stannis clenched his fingers. How to say it without sounding an irrational omega? "She is an alpha, as you well know. There were times… when I thought she might have guessed my secret." 

The scene inside the Dragonmount came back clear as day, the heat so intense he'd stripped to his shirt, unwilling to take that off even as the linen stuck to his skin. His own heat had been near, and that had made him sweat more. She had been touching him, telling him how important it would be to ensure the strength of his line. At the time, he had rationalized that she was merely trying to seduce him, but in later days, especially when they were safely parted, he had questioned whether she perhaps meant to get him with child in doing so. 

Had she, by some sorcery, been able to divine his nature? If she had, she'd never said a word outright. 

"Your Grace?" 

Stannis lifted his head. He had not noticed Davos staring at him. "Regardless," he said, "she has moved on without me. Most likely with Selyse. I wish them all happiness. I do not need her." 

Davos stroked his beard thoughtfully. "That may be wise, sire." 

"What makes you say that?" 

Davos sighed, once more looking reluctant to tell Stannis something. "There are murmurings among the riverlords… They have not been with you as long as your stormlords or even the Northmen and as such…" 

Stannis knew what he was about to say. The Northmen followed their own gods, so while they were wary of R'hllor, the red god's southron converts posed no threat to them. Not so with the riverlords. 

He shifted in his seat. "What can I do about them? Many of my men still worship the Seven, including yourself." 

It occurred to him suddenly that Davos might be worried about their child. If he wished to have it dedicated to the Seven when it as born, Stannis would have no objections… 

"Renounce R'hllor." 

Stannis blinked. "What?" 

"That is my suggestion to you. If you aim to win the rest of the south, you will not do it by burning septs." Brown eyes narrowed when Stannis opened his mouth to object that he planned to do no such thing. "When the smallfolk talk of you, that is what they say, true or not." Davos paused and tucked his hair behind his ear, which was utterly distracting. "You must show them you will not."

"And you think they will believe me?" 

"Why shouldn't they?" Davos smiled. "You will come to them a king anew, bathed in the light of the Seven, exactly as you are."

"An omega." 

"A king whose issue is proven to be his. Was that not the very matter which started this fight?" 

Stannis rested his hand on his belly. There was, just barely, enough there for him to be able to do so. "I suppose so. In a manner of speaking" 

"There you have it, sire. That is the way I see forward."

Stannis frowned. Once more, Davos had the truth of it, however much he misliked what that truth was. "Very well. How do you propose we accomplish this?"

Davos was overflowing with suggestions to the point that Stannis wondered if he had orchestrated the entire thing, letter and all.


	7. Chapter Six

Stannis remained in seclusion for the next week, only receiving Davos and his uncle. He did not like it, but it was necessary. He wanted to announce his pregnancy in the right way, not have speculation and rumors spread throughout the castle until everyone knew before he'd said a word. 

"You must be feeling better," Lomas told him one morning when they breakfasted together. 

"I am." It was true that he hadn't been sick in some weeks, but that was little comfort when the tradeoff was an ever-growing belly. 

Lomas tore his bread in two. "It will have to be soon." He did not have to say what _it_ was. 

Stannis bristled. "I know." No one hated being cooped up more than Stannis did, a fact he thought ought to have been plain to his uncle. Stannis knew how little Lomas had liked his own confinement, and he'd never had another child. "They must be starting to wonder where I am."

"One thing I can't fault you for is your selection of Hand. Your Onion Lord manages to keep the Northmen appeased." 

"What of the riverlords?" Stannis was aware of their arrival; he could see the makings of an enormous force massing from his window. 

"They listen to the Blackfish, and they seem receptive to what I or Lord Seaworth say." 

"That is heartening." Stannis looked out the window. The snow had turned to rain. Neither would make advancing with an army easy, especially one headed by a pregnant king. "When did you feel Andrew move?" he asked suddenly.

Lomas gave him a poleaxed expression. "Five months, I suppose. Why did you want to know?"

"I wondered…" He glanced down at his belly again. He had been wearing loose tunics, as his regular clothes had been feeling tight. His pregnancy was an unescapable reality now, more so than it had been when it was making him regularly ill. _I hope I am on my throne before I feel my child move. I hope I am on my throne before I give birth._

"When it starts to happen, you'll know. You'll be longing for these days, when you're too big to move and the little blighter's dancing a jig on your bladder." He said this with a fond smile on his face that made Stannis wonder if one day he, too, might forget his misery when he had a grown child to be proud of. 

_A son, perhaps_ , he thought. He knew not to get his hopes up, but his mind provided a hazy image of a young man, a mix of Davos' sons, Andrew, and Renly. He shook his head. He was getting ahead of himself. 

The door opened. Stannis looked up. It would have to be Davos; no one else would not knock. Even Devan had been encouraged to avoid him, which Stannis felt ashamed of. 

"Good morning, Your Grace." Davos' smile was enough to make him forget his troubles. His cloak and hair were damp. Stannis was about to ask what he'd been doing outside when he saw the box he was keeping under his cloak, safe from the rain. "I've just come from the smith. Your crown is ready."

Stannis sighed. "Then I suppose it must be today."

"You can hardly wait longer," Lomas said. "I thought you wanted to get on with your reign. Figure out how to sit on that sharp throne of yours while you still have your balance."

Davos smiled. "He has a point, sire." 

"Very well. We will proceed." It felt much like agreeing to be executed. 

"I'd best see to the preparations, then," Lomas said. "They'll all have to be told where to go and when." 

Stannis braced for Davos to ask how he was feeling once they were alone, but he just held out the box. "You should look on your crown, sire, and make sure it is to your taste." 

Stannis lifted the lid of the box. He'd left the exact details to Davos, who was the one who insisted he needed a new crown in the first place. He glanced up at Davos, whose expression betrayed nothing. "This looks like lightning," he said, tracing his fingers over the points. 

"Yes." Davos tucked his hair behind his ear. "It seemed… to suit you." 

Stannis felt a sudden and uncomfortable prickling on the back of his neck. It seemed suddenly very intimate that Davos had considered what might suit had and commissioned that.

But what else was he supposed to do? He was Stannis' Hand for Maiden's sake. This was exactly his job. 

"Thank you," he said, setting the box on the table. "It does suit." It managed to be both fit for a king and not as gaudy as the crowns of some of his forbears. Stannis could not have countenanced an enormous stag's head emerging from his crown like a trophy on a wall like Robert's crown. He had liked the simplicity of his old crown but knew it would not do to keep it if he were renouncing the Red God. He turned it slowly in his hands. The gold lightning was finely wrought, in seven points. Around the narrow band, pranced seven stags.

"I see you were in a pious mood when you instructed the smith."

Davos gave him a look that was nearly reproachful. "As befits the pious king." 

Stannis felt his jaw tighten. "How much penance must I do for concealing my omegahood?" 

"Do not think of it like that. The septon was understanding." 

Stannis knew he would not have been able to carry this out successfully had the Riverrun septon been the same sort of septon he'd grown up with at Storm's End. _He_ had eventually grown tired of Stannis' incessant questions, forcing Stannis to conclude before he was twelve that the septon did not know any more than Stannis did about what the gods wanted. 

Septon Marss talked about what the riverlords wanted, just as Davos did. He did it less frankly, of course, but Stannis was comforted that they both agreed that this was as much a political event as it was a religious one. And he did not lecture Stannis for having concealed his nature and become pregnant out of wedlock. He agreed that Stannis and Selyse's marriage being dissolved was the most likely decision the High Septon would make, but he did not insist Stannis and Davos be married. 

Overall, he was surprisingly sensible, which was why Stannis was willing to go through the entire spectacle. 

"There is one other thing," Stannis said, tucking his crown securely back into its box where it would sit until it was placed on his head later that day. "Devan. He must not learn of this sitting in the sept." 

Davos paled, but nodded. "I agree. I—I will tell him." 

Stannis felt a flood of relief. He had not been looking forward to having to reveal to his squire that he was carrying a child who would be Devan's sibling. "That would be best."

Davos took up the box again and gave Stannis a quick bow. "I will go and do that, then, sire. That way he can help you prepare for the ceremony."

"Yes," Stannis said. 

Davos left without another word, leaving Stannis alone to listen to the rain hitting the windowpanes and dread what would happen that afternoon. 

**

Davos found Devan diligently oiling Stannis' mail. It was good to see him occupied, though Davos could not imagine Stannis would be wearing his armor in the foreseeable future. _It isn't my place to keep him out of battle if he wants it_ , Davos thought. _I would never be that kind of alpha._ He couldn't help fervently hoping, however, that Stannis' armor wouldn't fit him if he sought to wear it into battle. 

"Do you need something, Father?" Devan asked. Davos pulled himself out of his reverie. 

"Yes. There is something I must tell you." 

Devan's eyes widened. "Is it about the king?" 

"Yes. He is well; do not worry for him." He swallowed hard. "He is going to have a child." 

Devan's brows knit. "He… is? I thought the king was a beta."

"He is an omega," Davos said gently. "He did not want others to know." He paused. This next part was by far the most awkward aspect of it. "He required help with his heat. I gave him that help."

Devan's eyes widened as realization dawned. 

"You will have a new brother or sister in some months." 

Devan was still staring at him. "Congratulations, Father," he finally said. Davos could not blame him for being surprised to learn of this. It could not be easy to discover your father and the king had engaged in the activity that made babies. 

"The king has appreciated all of your help while he was ill and we are sorry we could not tell you the truth before. Now he must tell his lords."

Devan nodded, and Davos was proud to see his commitment to duty reassert itself over any shock he might feel. "What can I do now?" 

"The king will need help getting ready to go to the sept this afternoon. He will need a bath filled and a barber."

"Yes, Father." Devan wiped his hands on a rag and set to cleaning up. He knew what he was doing, which was more than Davos could say for himself. He left his son and headed for his own quarters to make himself presentable. He could not be too shabby next to the king. 

**

It had stopped raining by the time they set out for the sept, which was a small blessing. 

"The gods must be looking on you favorably," the septon said, as they passed through the gardens that surrounded the sept. This deep in winter, they were a tangle of brown. 

Stannis held his tongue; it would not do to say what he thought of that right before the septon was to crown him and welcome him back into the Faith. He felt stiff and uncomfortable in clothes that would soon be too tight; Devan was carrying his cloak to keep it out of the mud. 

He could not help letting his eyes stray toward Davos. He cleaned up nicely, he thought with pride. Even though his clothes were somewhat travel-worn, he'd had his hair and beard trimmed, and Stannis found himself staring. 

"Will you be all right, Your Grace?" he asked, obviously attributing Stannis' vacant expression to nerves. "Have you thought of what to say?"

"I have thought of what to say." That did not mean his words would be received well, but he could not help how others took them. Stannis knew he was not a charismatic king, nor did he have his brothers' way with honeyed words, but he was reasonably capable of expressing himself in writing, so he had written a speech he would read aloud. 

Davos' hand landed on his upper arm. "Remember to look at the people, sire. Do not just read to them." 

Stannis flushed, annoyed at the perceptiveness of Davos' advice. He glanced down at his parchment. If he did not make his case perfectly, he could lose the support he had. He closed his eyes. He _could_ have what he wanted, his throne and his child both. He took a deep breath as he entered the sept.

**

Davos sat in the first row of benches, trying to stifle his nerves. He had all confidence in Stannis, but after close to twenty years of (he dared to say) friendship, he knew very well how comfortable Stannis was with the eyes of a crowd on him. He still remembered a speech Stannis had made as master of ships before a large assemblage of lords, which had consisted of him mumbling into the notes he held in front of his face. 

Worse still, when Davos had pointed this out to him later, he had denied doing any such thing.

Stannis mounted the dais and bowed curtly to the septon. He pivoted with military precision to face the assembly. Davos glanced back over his shoulder; the crowd of northmen and rivermen, with a few scattered stormlanders, were shifting in their seats and whispering to each other. 

"My lords," Stannis began. "I have asked you all to assemble here so that I may thank you for following me so far, and so that I may announce my intentions for the taking of King's Landing. But first…" He paused and Davos braced himself, but Stannis did not even consult the piece of parchment he held behind his back.

"But first, I must share some news that will affect my future campaign." He pressed his lips together, and Davos shifted. It easy to become nervous on his behalf. "I am with child." 

He had chosen the bluntest wording, which was very like him, at least. Davos didn't think it would have helped matters if Stannis had tried to be someone else in his speech. 

"Doubtless," Stannis went on, "many of you who put any thought to my nature took me to be a beta, which I confess was a misapprehension I did not correct." 

There was faint murmuring among the crowd, but it was evidently quiet enough that Stannis did not hear it. Davos knew Stannis did not do well with murmuring.

"Indeed, I am an omega." He paused, as though bracing himself for all assembled to gasp. It did not happen quite like that, though Davos heard a snort of laughter from the Greatjon. 

"Naturally, this changes nothing," he said. Davos had to admire his conviction, though it could not have been further from the truth. But as king, Davos supposed it was his prerogative not to explain himself further. 

Stannis cleared his throat. "I also ask for Septon Marss' blessing, as I renounce the Red God and return to the faith of my birth."

The murmur about the sept grew louder and Davos fought the instinct to turn his head. Stannis was looking at him now, and he needed to demonstrate his unconditional support. 

Stannis went to one knee as the septon approach. 

"The gods welcome you back, my son," Marss murmured, anointing Stannis with the oils, as he would have blessed a baby. _As the septon will bless ours in a few months_ , he thought unbidden. 

With his eyes closed and his head bent, Stannis looked particularly pious, which Davos had to admire, knowing how little he really cared about such things. And his belly was rather obvious from this angle, he had to note, too. They could not have waited much longer.

Then the septon took the crown from one of his attendants and Stannis lifted his head to receive it. Davos felt his heart swell with pride at how regal he looked. Then, Stannis again bent his head to kiss the septon's ring. 

It was not the High Septon, of course, but Davos admired the effect all the same. With all hope, when he saw the new, repentant Stannis, he would be as accepting as Septon Marss and Stannis would be crowned in the Great Sept of Baelor with no difficulties. 

Stannis rose somewhat awkwardly. His center of gravity as not quite altered yet, but he had evidently not practiced kneeling. 

_It is still early, but he comes from large stock_ , Davos thought. _It stands to reason we will have a large baby._

A shift of his mantle and Stannis' belly suddenly became less visible. 

"Let the word pass," the septon continued, "that Stannis Baratheon is the only true King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, chosen by the Faith to reclaim the Iron Throne in the name of his beloved brother, the late King Robert, who was taken from us so cruelly." 

To his credit, Stannis' face remained impassive during this impromptu memorial for Robert. 

"I will avenge my brother's death," he said. "And the deaths of Lord and Lady Stark and their son. With your support, order will be restored, and we can go about the business of rebuilding the realm."

"King Stannis!" cried the Blackfish. 

"King Stannis!" echoed Justin Massey. 

The other so-called Queen's Men seemed far less enthusiastic, but even Ser Godry joined in once the entire sept had taken up the cry.

Davos turned back to Stannis and was treated to a small, crooked smile which breached the walls of Davos' reserve. 

_I want him_ , he thought deliriously. _He is carrying my child and I want him._

He quickly dismissed these thoughts. Stannis had enough problems without having Davos thinking of him this way. 

He would just have to hold these feelings to himself. Surely they would fade from inattention and he and Stannis would be able to effectively govern the kingdom and raise their child without anything unnecessary entering into it. 

**

Stannis called a meeting of his war council as soon as he left the sept. He wanted to get on with things as soon as possible. To his immense frustration, Ser Godry attempted to stop him. 

"You must rest, Your Grace," he said solicitously. "We will see to the planning of the assault on the capital."

"Absolutely not," Stannis snarled. "I have been leading this council while pregnant for some months now, and you did not notice. The fact that I am carrying a child obviously must not hamper my abilities to plan a war if I have been doing just that."

Ser Godry looked taken aback but wisely held his tongue. Stannis would not tolerate a guard who would attempt to restrict what he could and could not do.

"Are there any further objections?" he asked. He surveyed the table, but no one opened his mouth. Good. It had gone as Davos said it would; they did not like him being an omega, but he was the king and they had already committed to him for better or worse. "Good. Let us resume."

With the strength of the riverlands already added to his existing forces, he had a substantial host, more than he'd ever dreamed when he was on Dragonstone, hunched over the painted table. 

"We will make directly for the capital," he said. "A forced march. We will face no opposition." He turned to Davos. "You must send word to Salladhor Saan. They must sail for the capital." He could barely believe it was actually time to put his plan into motion. His heart lurched in his chest. What could stop him now? There was always something. 

"Of course, Your Grace." Davos inclined his head. 

Stannis had not revealed the fact that Davos was his child's sire, and he had decided to keep that information to himself for now. Davos did not need to face undue scorn. This would be Stannis' to bear. He resisted the urge to touch his abdomen; he didn't need to do that to know he was pregnant. It would only draw attention to it. 

Instead, he threw himself into his maps until he was satisfied the lords and knights he'd invited to sit on his war council did not think less of him. (Or if they did, they did not say anything.) 

Ser Brynden Tully was one of his more enthusiastic new allies, volunteering to accompany Stannis with fifteen thousand men. 

"It's the best place for me," he said. "My nephew's place is here with his wife and daughter and his people." He bowed his head. "Surely Your Grace will forgive only taking one Tully to see you to your throne." 

"Of course." Stannis was not in the business of wiping out families. He wondered if he had garnered that reputation. Between the two of them, he thought he would rather have the uncle. The nephew was young and would be one of his lords paramount, and he was not a bad one from what Stannis had seen. He would serve him well in the future, even if he did not have a quarter of his uncle's reputation in battle. 

The next few days were a blur of preparation. Stannis was glad he was feeling better, as he would not have been able to do this during his periods of illness and fatigue. He was feeling more vigor than he had during the early part of his pregnancy, even though his belly was increasing in size. 

"Enjoy this while it lasts," his uncle had said. "Before you know it, you'll be too big to sit a horse."

He was not too big to sit a horse now, at least. He had been given a gentle mare, and he felt he could not refuse because he had refused to do so much else that was expected of him as an omega. At least the gentle mare could keep up with the warhorses. 

And, curse him, he was glad for it because he feared jostling the child. 

"How do you fare, sire?" 

He turned angrily in his saddle, ready to snap at a meddler, but it was only Davos. He sighed. "I am all right. If something does go wrong, one of my minders will know soon."

Davos smiled. "I do not mean to add to your burdens."

"No. I do not mind when it is you." It was Davos' child after all. Stannis supposed he had a right to ask. 

"Are others that much of a problem?"

"Ser Godry is still the same as he was." When Davos opened his mouth in surprise, he went on, "He still distinguishes himself as my guard, but he also thinks if I use my brain at all, I risk cooking the child."

"I'm sure he does not really think that."

"He said so, in those words exactly." Stannis recalled that morning with bitterness as Ser Godry had helped him mount up. He had expressed his concerns and been dismissed from Stannis' sight. "I think he believes you manipulated me into renouncing R'hllor. He is one of the few clinging to the red god." 

Many of Stannis' men, such as Justin Massey, who had taken up the faith to please (or so they thought) the king or queen, had abandoned it just as readily when Stannis had. "He may go to Selyse if he wishes. I will have naught to do with him."

"Perhaps I should talk to him," Davos said. "If he believes me responsible, I should set him straight. He ought not to resent me for having undue influence over you. Which I have none, of course." Perhaps it was Stannis' imagination, but Davos looked red faced. 

"No," Stannis said reluctantly. "I fear that would only diminish his opinion of you."

"But the men must have respect for you." 

"They are still following me. And few have complained." He paused. "It could have been more, Davos. Substantial numbers of them could have refused to follow a pregnant, unwed omega king." 

"And they did not," Davos said firmly. "You lost not a one. Which is a testament to your leadership."

Stannis frowned. All his life he'd believed men would never follow him out of love, and he could not believe that now. But it was gratifying that so many at least followed the rightful king, even if they all had their own reasons for it. That was probably as close as he would ever get, and he wasn't going to argue it.

**

Marching was wearying. Their long stay at Riverrun had made Davos forget the long trek from the north, though according to the map it was a shorter distance to King's Landing. Darry was surrendered easily; Lancel Lannister had abandoned it, but it was still held by his former wife, a Frey, who happily opened the gates to her kinsmen. 

Davos pretended not to see Lady Amerei disappear somewhere with Black Walder Frey. The sooner they could cease associating with the family, the better in his view. He still could not forget the bloodstained hall, where brothers had slain each other. 

His focus was Stannis—seeing Stannis safely situated in a bedchamber, seeing him out of wet clothes and into a warm bath, while Devan and Larence saw to the horses.

All through this, he tried not to look at the naked king, though he'd caught a glimpse of his belly as he eased himself into the tub. Outside of the loose tunics and furs his condition and the cold obliged him to wear, Davos could see how large he really was. 

_It will be a large child_ , he decided, as began gathering up Stannis' discarded clothes. He thought again of his sons. All seven had been tiny babes, and Dale, Allard, and Maric had been taller than Davos. He thought Devan had a chance to be as well; it was too early to tell with Stanny and Steff. _And this one, no doubt, even if it is a girl, might tower over her brothers._

"I feel good, Davos," Stannis declared, forcing Davos to look at him. 

"I'm glad, sire." He sat on the chair on which he'd planned to hang Stannis' nightclothes. 

Stannis began to wash. Davos shifted the chair, still wanting to maintain some propriety. He may have been attending his king in the bath, the king who was carrying his child, but he could give him some privacy. 

"The capital should fall." Stannis sounded hesitant, and Davos looked resolutely away from the sounds of his bath. "I have the forces to take it. And if your pirate is as good as his word, the Stormlands should be ours." 

"I would trust Salladhor Saan with my life, Your Grace." 

Stannis made a somewhat skeptical noise. "I trust _you_ ," he finally allowed. "So I suppose if you trust him, so do I." 

Davos smiled. 

"There is one thing I wanted to ask you, Davos."

Davos tensed. He did not know why he did this every time he thought Stannis might make a pronouncement; he was surely not going to suggest they go to bed, however much Davos might wish it. 

"When I have won my throne…" He paused. "If you would like to return to Cape Wrath, I would not object."

Davos' stomach swam. "What about our child?" 

"You could raise it there if you wished."

"No." Davos' answer was firm. Once, many years ago, he might have worried that Stannis did not want him or their bastard at court, but he was not worried about that now. "I would remain with you, sire. Cape Wrath will be very empty if Devan remains your squire and if Stanny and Steff go to their mother and stepfather. I would stay your Hand if you will have me."

"Good," Stannis said firmly. He rose from the tub and Davos hurried to hand him the towel. "I was hoping you would say that. I did not want you to go, but I felt as though I had to offer. After all you have done for me, you deserve a reward."

Davos turned, glad Stannis was wrapped in the towel. "Our child will be reward enough. I should not like it to be separated from you." 

"No," Stannis said softly. "I don't suppose I should like that either." He paused. "It hardly seems real that we will have a child." 

"It will be real soon enough." Davos rose from the chair and handed Stannis his nightshift, not even looking away from embarrassment as the towel dropped. 

"Aye." A small smile spread across Stannis' face. "And we will be well-ensconced in the capital by the time the babe comes." 

Davos handed Stannis his braes and stepped back. Every time Stannis showed excitement about the baby, he felt gratified. "Gods willing," he added.

"Yes," Stannis said, throwing him a skeptical look. "We are depending on them now, aren't we?"


End file.
